Chase Me
by antihero276
Summary: Following another breakout at the infamous Arkham Asylum, Johnathan Crane is in hiding from Gotham's police and the Bat. Unknown to Scarecrow, someone else has been watching his life closer then he'd realized. Scarecrow/Catwoman. Mystery/Adventure/Romance
1. Chapter 1: Alone?

**Hello everyone, this is the start of a long story that came to my mind. This explanation of things will be long, but I figure I should get it out of the way.**

**Recently, I've became a huge fan of Batman and everything related to it. In the past, I had not been so attached to the characters. I think it was because the only Batman I'd seen really up to a few months ago was Christian Bale's Batman, which I didn't like...especially the voice XD. The Christopher Nolan Batman universe didn't appeal to me...it took it's self far too seriously with little comic book element. How realistic can you get with a story of a man dressing like a bat? I do respect it though, for taking Batman out of...*shudder*...Batman Forever and Batman and Robin territory. I had always kind of believed Batman to be far too soft and superheroy for my taste. Over the years I've been more drawn to anti-hero types from comics, such as Spawn, Punisher, Deadpool, etc etc. However, after seeing a bit of the 90's animated series, along with the amazing, dark Batman portrayal by Michael Keaton, my favorite Batman along with Kevin Conroy's, it converted me to an all around Batman lover. Batman is it all: Badass, never loses, has lots of charisma with the ladies...I actually consider Batman to be the Captain Kirk of comic books quite honestly, especially with all the women the man gets xDD. In short, he became my favorite, constantly saving the day with only his wits, body and will, not requiring powers like Superman. The story of Batman is amazing frankly, such a huge array of villains, stories of tragedy, etc. Interaction between the characters was one of the things that helped inspire me to do this. I noticed that there were certain combination's of characters interacting that the writers of Batman comics never explored, so I chose to. This is a story that will include many references to the Batman mythology, etc, and my own interpretations of the characters.**

**While I love pretty much all the villains equally, one of them in particular stood out as deserving another fan-fiction, yup, Scarecrow. Just like with Batman, the only Scarecrow I'd known about was the Cillian Murphy one. While I think he did a pretty good job, he just didn't strike me the way the amazing one from the comic books, animated series and the Arkham Asylum video game did. He's such a fascinating character, his past, etc. He's such an evil person, but he isn't quite The Joker. There's something really different to him. The Jeffery Combs animated series one and Arkham Asylum version in particular were incredible. I noticed, however, he didn't get enough in the ladies department compared to Batsie and pretty much anyone else xD, so yes, I chose Catwoman to correct that. I know, that must seem like such a non-canon thing, but I figured I could make it work with my interpretation. I'm not trying to upset the people who like the whole Catwoman/Batman relationship, I love that one too, and I think it was best shown in Batman Returns. However, Scarecrow needs love too like any other villain you know xDD. The male villains and female villains are all interchangeable in a way, and so many amazing ideas can be thought up regarding their relationships to one another, fan fiction stories, etc. I had wondered how those two would interact, the fussy little insane loner who focuses on his work and this sexy, seductive woman, who's morality is ambiguous. I believe I'll be the first of my kind on this website to do this pairing xD, but what the hell. Someone has to go first. The story is mostly centered around Scarecrow, but there are many other characters who will appear and play roles in the events.  
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**I have done a huge amount of research on the stories, characters, events, etc, to be as faithful to the comics as possible, while showing my own views of things... and I hope you will like my universe. I've had many sources of inspiration that would take too long to tell them all right now. My Batman comics universe and character characteristics is a huge blending of elements and ideas of the Tim Burton Batman movies, the comics, the DC universe and the Arkham Asylum video-game, just for the record. Killing Joke served as a huge inspiration for doing all this as well, being my favorite Batman comic and whatnot. Alan Moore and Frank Miller were the main authors who added to all the inspiration.  
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**I'm not sure if this fiction will be well received, but I fully intend to post it all. Just so you know right now, I already have the whole story completed, and mostly edited. This was something I did over the course of at least three months. I did this so I won't have to keep missing updates, you know, life being busy and whatnot. I also did it because that way I can take any of your advice and ideas you care to offer and incorporate them into the story.**

**Ok, I've talked long enough :D. Here's the first chapter of my idea, enjoy:  
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**Gotham City, Early November **

The dark rainclouds had formed together about an hour prior blocking the sun from view, and were now pouring ice cold water all over the city below. Fierce gusts of wind tore through the streets, howling and carrying lost newspapers and debris as raindrops dripped off the windows of an apartment complex deep in the bowels of Gotham City. Overhead, another ripple of thunder growled savagely, droning out the patter of the rain falling into the large murky water filled puddles all over the streets. Various tenants of the district listened to the peals of thunder from their apartment's. Parents comforted their children, lovers huddled together closely for warmth, listening intently.

Behind one of the the curtain covered windows of one such apartment, four floors up from the ground, there was one man who had zero care at all about what the current state of weather was. He was too busy alone inside his own little world to consider the loud ripples and steady beat of rain on the pavement below. A looming, gangly figure of a costumed man was standing in front of a long, sleek surfaced black table, hard at work. The table was positioned in the middle of the dimly lit room, the faint light being provided by a lamp sitting on a glass coffee table near the television set against the wall. It cast eerie shapes around, dancing about the room over the white painted walls as if they were terrible shadow people. Apart from the barely audible clicking of a clock mounted up on the wall it, was silent as a grave compared to the din outside.

Doctor Johnathan Crane loosened the rusty metal device that was securely mounted and strapped around his right wrist and forearm. In the past it had taken a long time to do so, but practice had made it perfectly easy, like riding a bicycle almost. Next he removed the five glowing yellow liquid filled needles protruding from the ends of the tubes running down the thin arm and connecting to each finger of his right glove. He placed the long needles carefully inside an open metal briefcase sitting at his feet below the table.

After this he removed a small fear inducing toxin filled spray bottle sitting in one of the straps around his shabby pant leg. The doctor placed it in the case, beside the other samples. He slowly snapped the lock shut on it and placed it carefully under the table. As he stood peering over his work, a satisfied smile rose underneath his full faced mask.

Despite not having the scientific equipment he would have liked to possess, Crane had to admit that the latest batch of fear toxins had turned out wonderfully, due fully to his genius of course. He glanced up and surveyed the small third floor apartment. The previous tenant had unpleasantly reminded Crane of the scum he had once gone to school with. The doctor had immensely enjoyed showing the boy his mask.

Crane removed his raggedy, brown toned ankle length duster and hung it around the chair seated at the front of the large table. He sat down in the straight backed wooden chair comfortably, taking a deep breath.

The doctor had pulled the table to the center of the dingy living room. He started examining his bubbling formula bottles and vials carefully, satisfied they had each turned the proper color. After mixing several formulas, he examined a sample through one of his numerous, differently sized microscopes sitting on the table.

He wished he could have returned to the Gotham science university and take the equipment they had, rather then the spare stuff he had hidden away at his previous hideout. Unfortunately the police would be looking there for him after his breakout at Arkham, with Two Face and Croc. It was a terrible shame, that useful equipment was being wasted in the hands of obsolete 'scientists' with obsolete theory's. They should have listened to Crane, not blew their chances by firing him. So he'd been testing on a few students here and there...what of it? It was progress. It didn't matter anymore...there had been nothing left there for him to learn anyways.

Worse still, the troublesome little bat would probably be swooping around the city, searching for the master of fear. The so called 'worlds greatest detective' usually lived up to his reputation, the doctor had to admit. He was certain, however, that he'd be safe here at least a few nights more. Besides, the bat would probably be searching for Dent first, as doctor Crane remembered him mentioning their previous work together against crime. The lock on the apartments front door had been fairly simple, thankfully, and Crane had picked it open within a couple minutes.

_Once I make enough of these fear toxins, I can sell them to Joker... he got out weeks ago. Possibly Black Mask in the underworld, if he's interested enough. I can make enough money to actually acquire some decent equipment, supplies and a better place to do my work, Crane thought to himself. He breathed quietly, the air moving through the filters and escaping out the mask's twin nozzles. He sighed. Joker would probably demand a lot for a a low price... that cheap grinning bastard doesn't understand this is harder to make then his Joker venom. The heathens of this city simply do not understand the mind of the scientist._

The doctor moved back from the microscopes, picked up a sharpened yellow pencil and began scribbling more notes down in his already open notebook.

After several minutes of working, Crane glanced over at the blue clock mounted on the wall. It was nearing ten PM, just about time for the news. It would be useful to see the police progress on the breakout and see what was happening. The doctor reached to his left side for the remote and switched on the small television set sitting on a cabinet across the room from turned his chair to face the television set, still holding the pencil. Behind the mask, his eyes narrowed upon the television.

Noise and light blared inside the apartment as the familiar face of dark haired TV anchorman Jack Ryder sitting upright in his news desk appeared on the screen. He started his broadcast, expression grim and voice clear.

"Good evening Gotham, this is Jack Ryder of Gotham City news. Day three of another breakout at the infamous Arkham Asylum, in which six guards were killed and several others were seriously injured. Police are still baffled at how the three men managed to escape from Arkham's high security cell block."

In a flash, three familiar images appeared on the glowing screen before Crane, one next to the other in a row.

'The infamous escapees pictured in these mugshots are as follows: Harvey Dent, AKA 'Two Face', wanted for, among many other things, several first degree murders and the robbery of Gotham's second national bank."

"Second, Doctor Johnathan Crane, AKA 'Scarecrow', wanted for horrendous crimes including experimentation on kidnapped citizens, arson, theft, releasing toxins upon several local schools and various first degree murders."

"Thirdly is Waylon Jones, AKA 'Killer Croc', wanted for the vicious cannibalism of an uncounted number of innocent victims and other assorted crimes including theft."

Doctor Cranes eyes passed across the photos first hovering over the horribly scarred and normal halves of Two Face. Half his mouth seemed to grin hatefully at the camera with the flesh there pealed back, while the other side appeared grim. Near this picture was the vicious, scaly reptilian face of Croc. He was baring his massive razor sharp teeth as his red eyes glinted hungrily. He came to a stop upon his own familiar expressionless bespectacled one. He smiled slightly at the sight of himself. It was such a shame they hadn't let him wear his mask for the photo, it would have turned out so much better.

"We now go live to reporter Summer Gleason, reporting over at Arkham Asylum...Summer?"

The camera view instantly cut from Jack and to the main floor, more specifically, the front receptionists desk on the main floor of the Asylum. A well dressed, expressionless young woman with straight, long red hair was standing in between a pair of irritatingly familiar, older men. Orderly's and Guards were passing by in the background from what Crane could make out. Just over their shoulders was part of the hallway, leading down to the elevators.

"Yes Jack, standing here with me at Arkham Asylum are Warden Quincy Sharp and Police Commissioner James Gordon. Warden Sharp, what are your views on this matter? Is there anything you'd like to say?".

The older, rapidly balding man with thick rimmed glasses took a step forward. He wore a black suit and pant combo, a red flower pinned to the lapel, and a white dress shirt underneath, it's collar turned down. The man possessed a serious face, his forehead lined with wrinkles. His hand moved up and adjusted his red tie slightly, looking very sure of himself. He started as if he had rehearsed this already many times. Hell...he probably had.

"I ask Gothamites not to worry at this time. I am working closely with the commissioner, the police and other assets to get this situation resolved as soon as possible. Doctor Crane, formerly an employee here and a professor at Gotham University, former district attorney Harvey Dent and Jones are extremely dangerous and disturbed individuals. These are not ordinary Blackgate prisoners we're dealing with here." Sharp cleared his throat and continued on.

"Speaking on behalf of the police, I further implore the good citizens of Gotham city to stay away from these men, and if you see them: do not approach them! Contact the Gotham city police immediately instead and report their whereabouts. I assure you personally, they will be caught soon and sent back here for proper treatment with our professional doctoring staff", He finished confidently.

Summer smiled at the warden, as if comforted by his words, while Crane smirked to himself.

_Treatment... you call yourselves doctors for what you do there with your outdated methods,_ the doctor thought. _A neanderthal could accomplish more with some test tubes._

"Thank you warden, I'm sure that many Gotham citizens feel reassured to hear this", she said kindly.

Crane noticed a slightly annoyed look cross Gordon's aged features. The white haired trench coat wearing man clearly didn't like the warden speaking for him, but the look passed instantly as he cleared his throat and addressed the viewers.

_Sharp must be trying to get ready to campaign for mayor soon and wants the spotlight...that will be the day... the warden of the asylum running Gotham? The voters would have to be more insane then Joker to make that happen,_ Crane thought to himself wryly.

"Hang in there Commissioner, you'll get your spotlight back eventually!", the thin man said aloud to himself with a whispery laugh.

"The manhunt continues for the escaped Arkham patients. We have every available man searching for these three individuals. We feel it likely that they aren't still together, that they've split up around the city, making our task that much harder. I can't discuss any leads on camera at this time, but we feel optimistic that we're on the right track", Gordon stated calmly, oblivious to what Crane had said.

"Just a couple questions Commissioner. The public has been on edge after the Joker broke out of Arkham a month ago and who's whereabouts are still unknown. This additional breakout has surely made citizens even more frightened then before. The people want to know if Batman is helping the police on this case, and if so, where is he right now?", Summer asked.

Gordon's white mustached face remained neutral at this question.

"Batman is wanted for questioning in regards to various possible crimes he might have committed. Crimes that include resisting arrest, excessive property damage to the city, assault, assaulting a police officer, breaking and entering, and first degree murder. We aren't yet sure at this time which one's he's committed or not, given his frequent clashes against Gotham's darker elements, his... capability's, and lack of appropriate witnesses", Gordon replied stiffly. "That is the official stance"

There was a snap from down between Crane's hands as the pencil broke. He looked down at both ends in each hand. He set both back down on the table. The doctor rubbed his gloved hands together, still surveying the television screen.

Crane laughed dryly to himself at this stoic lie from the commissioner. Summer on the other hand wasn't done with Gordon yet.

"Photo Journalist Vicki Vale, an excellent source of ours on the Gotham Gazette, has written up an article about eyewitnesses viewing a bright light with a bat shape in the sky above the police department not an hour after the breakout. In addition to this, she was able to get a couple snapshots of it. It vanished after several minutes. This has been sighted on and off many times over the years... the police must be aware of this by now commissioner, but you haven't bothered to make an official confirmation to the citizens. My question is, is it a kind of signal Batman has given the department to contact him with for help?

Gordon looked a bit uncomfortable now as the questions struck home, but no less resolute and determined.

"We are doing everything we have to to apprehend these men", Gordon stated with finality in his voice. "Don't worry".

"Good", Summer nodded, satisfied at these words. She didn't ask anything more of the commissioner, her question had seemingly been confirmed. Instead she turned back to the camera and beginning to sum up the report for the viewers at home.

In the far background, Crane spotted another familiar face enter the shot, a pleasant one to see. A pretty young blond woman in dull gray pants and a long sleeve shirt, her hair pulled into twin pig tails on either side of her head. She was likely being taken back down to her cell, flanked by a pair of serious faced guards in uniform. The woman stopped dead in her tracks and turned her head in Crane's direction. She grinned widely when she noticed the cameraman aiming the camera on the trio standing at the receptionist's desk, not far in front of her.

Harley Quinn grabbed at both her long pig tails, held them up high above her head and stuck her tongue out, staring to blow a raspberry to the cameraman.

Commissioner Gordon, Summer Gleason and warden Sharp turned away from the camera at the noise and stared at the young woman in surprise. A look of disgust had slowly risen to the Warden's face and he made no attempt to hide the sheer contempt of it.

"That one's tah all you otha Gotham people!", Harley's excited voice called into the camera. Her smile grew wider and she raised a hand to her lips, blowing a kiss at the camera. "MMMWAH! I'm rooting for ya out there professah Crane! Good job on tha break out! You too Twin Face and Lizard Man! Tha whole gang is proud of ya and cheering ya on from here! Hey Red! I'm on TV!...Ow! Take it easy ya filthy apes! My Puddin won't be too happy with ya when he see's this!"

Before she could say more, Harley had been hauled off camera and down the hallway, giggling and squirming, by her guards. Doctor Crane chuckled delightedly to himself at this outburst, grateful for her words. Summer Gleason on the other hand looked very confused.

"Uh... anyways, so there you have it, Jack, reassuring words from a pair of Gotham's finest civil servants.", Summer informed him, doing her best to ignore the interruption. "Back to you".

The image instantly jumped back to Jack in the newsroom, who had been rubbing his forehead slightly. He stopped in an instant and smiled widely.

"Thank you Summer, it's certainly good news to hear in spite of the breakouts. In other more welcome news, head of Gotham's world renowned Wayne Enterprises, popular billionaire Bruce Wayne has recently donated a large sum to the Metropolis-

The doctor pressed the off switch on the remote, cutting Jack Ryder off mid sentence, blackness replacing the glow of the television set. The news worth hearing was over, now it'd be playing all the filler and gossip about Gotham's 'upper classes'.

Crane considered this new information, curling his long, gloved fingers together with the remote still between them. Batman was definitely on the case, he already knew it, but Vale had confirmed it indefinitely. Gordon probably had a lead on the case, but it seemed more likely that it involved Two Face or Croc. Those were the two who stood out more then Crane in more ways then one.

The doctor had been as careful as possible not to let anyone catch a glimpse of him, after splitting up with the other two, on his way to retrieve one of his spare costume's at a previous hideout...

* * *

Once he'd gotten his entire outfit together, Crane had waited patiently in his hideout for nighttime to fall over the sky on the first day of the breakout. Once the safety of the darkness came, Scarecrow had paid a visit to the Gotham underworld, searching for some henchmen. He scoured the dingy, seedy little smoke filled joints littering both sides of the streets. Although he typically preferred to be without them, he recognized henchmen could be of some use with just about everyone else looking for him, and the need to get more equipment.

Unfortunately, the bars had been a poor place to search. Most of the thugs he'd encountered had been simply too frightened to join him, stuttering some dim witted excuses and clearing out of his way. Others still seemed to clear out of the bar at his very presence, much to his mixed pleasure and annoyance.

He'd even mustered his courage to enter a cheap, crowded strip club (much to his wariness) amidst all the glowing neon lights displaying their mostly _**XXX**_ based text, and the disgusting stench of liquor mixed with sweat. It was a stench he had come to associate with Gotham's underworld every time he visited. Upon seeing the terrifying form of the Scarecrow trudging towards the entrance, long scythe held in both hands, the massive bouncers who had been turning back men much bigger then Scarecrow had moved swiftly out of his way, avoiding all eye contact with his evil face. They were smarter then they looked.

The overly crowded bar hadn't been too much a bother. Everyone gave him plenty of space, just like the bouncers had done. The mix of naked and half naked slender pole dancers soon caught sight of him moving through the club and stopped mid-act for several long moments, staring down at him, faces a prime example of terror. It was only after being prompted to continue by several other employees there, that they had resumed cautiously, still watching the super villain's lanky figure moving about the bar, questioning the cowardly and worthless thugs that resided there. Alas, to no avail. They were too scared to work for him.

Professional henchman were very hard to come by nowadays. In the old days, you could find a dozen or so easily at any underworld bar, now they were either too frightened, lazy or working for someone with control like Sionis. The skull faced man seemed to be gaining more and more power, popularity and influence over of the city's criminals at a rate surprising even to Scarecrow and the others. Many of the gangs and few remaining mob family's that had been around Gotham for years seemed to be simply folding under his might and be absorbed in, strengthening his already strong power-base.

It didn't bode well for most of the costumed Arkham freaks, and Scarecrow was now one of that bunch.

Eventually, he grew discouraged at the lack of interest and had left the strip club. On his way out the door, the owner of the club had approached thanked him fearfully for not killing or poisoning anybody, almost to the point of kissing Scarecrow's dirty, flatfooted shoes. The Scarecrow had pushed him aside roughly into a crowd of club goers performing a bizarre, out of place, seemingly sixties era dance he'd never seen before. The dance moves seemed to consist solely of brushing the index and middle fingers of one's hands in a V shape over their eyes and shaking back and forth in unison, jumping about now and then. It had reminded him more of an epileptic twitching on a floor then an actual dance routine. The raggedy villain left amidst all the droning noise that these strange people called music.

The moment the villain had arrived back on the streets surrounding the notorious 'Crime Alley', he felt no confidence in finding what he was looking for. The almost dilapidated buildings lining either side of the street usually had a hub of activity from criminals. On a night like this most people were inside, apart from various filthy homeless people laying in the alleys or standing over a barrel fire. Their eyes had bulged like frog's eyes when he turned down the collar of his duster and turned his malicious face in their directions for a few moments. Besides encountering the mumbling homeless, there had been several shivering and scarcely dressed prostitutes who's pimp had undoubtedly forced them to stay out to make more money. As he moved down the length of the sidewalk, just like everyone else he'd encountered that night, the women had stepped out of his path. They watched him fearfully without saying a word, their girlish little makeup covered eyes betraying a hint of disgust towards him.

Scarecrow wasn't sure what they were looking so repulsed about. He wasn't the one wearing thick pudding-like disgusting makeup to cover the numerous bruises and cigarette burns they'd undoubtedly received over the course of their 'careers' from their kindly 'owners'. Nor was he the one likely ravaged by the various types of hideous venereal diseases polluting their bodies.

At the last, much quieter bar he'd tried that night before calling it quits, there had been at least one promising man, eyes hidden behind a pair of large impenetrable black shades and playing a game of pool who'd caught his attention. He had been taller then Scarecrow and much wider. A massive goon built like a house in a cheap checker board patterned suit, tie and matching trousers. He was sporting a black bushy mustache under his nose and dangling from his mouth was the blood red tip of a long kitchen match protruding out the corner of his firm jaw. After pacing through the bar towards the man crouching at the table, the gangly villain came to a stop, surveying him wordlessly.

All the other men gathered around the table had faded into the air as Scarecrow's looming black shadow fell overtop of them, and those who entered the bar after the villain either backed right out again or gave him a wide berth.

The man at the pool table had looked up incredulously from his game to see Scarecrow's grinning mask, still holding the pool cue tightly. He'd been unafraid of the villain despite knowing his extensive reputation. This was something the villain had respected greatly.

In the background, the local drunks would steal glances at the pair, but seemed to be staring down at their drinks with rap attention or chatting amongst themselves every-time Scarecrow would look over.

"Hey there buddy, nice outfit...it must have been a long Halloween! It aint even October anymore!", the man with a thick Brooklyn based accent had said with a deep laugh. He ran a large hand through his well groomed and wavy dark hair. His serious eyes stopped upon the long scythe Scarecrow held at his side, the wicked blade protruding from it. "Looks like ya come from out south or somethin... takin yourself a vacation? That, or you were a resident at the local nuthouse with a crazy face like that".

Nobody in the bar laughed or even made a move, they just watched the scene fearfully, holding their breaths and waiting for the Scarecrow to unleash his wraith on the loud mouthed man. He didn't.

"The latter", Scarecrow had whispered back, his voice an eerie reverberating rasp in contrast to the man. "I would assume you do not watch the news regularly".

The mustached man laughed loudly and shook his head good naturedly. He gestured to all the men huddled at the bar, a couple of whom were nervously chatting to the Bartender.

"You assume right. Who the hell needs to watch the news 'round here? A flyin' rodent swooping around the city, masked fellows like yourself turning up all the time and hiring us for crazy jobs. Word travels quicker down here on the street then it does in that box full of images and noise. Name's Malone, nice to meet ya".

The man had then extended out a hand and informed him that he'd be interested in joining Scarecrow, just as long as he paid well. His rough grip had indeed felt iron clad and painful. Scarecrow had admitted to Malone he wasn't much in the way of cash, given his previous incarceration. He'd explained that he needed someone who could carry out his instructions to the letter, that he could pay the goon once he got his toxins back into production.

Malone had smirked down at the thin man in the costume, and had uttered a derisive snort, slamming down the cue on the table with a loud bang echoing through the room.

"When you put it like that...there's no way in hell I'm workin for ya buddy. I take my payments up front only".

Scarecrow had felt his thin lips forming into an amused smile. He tilted his head slightly, the cold deep black on the eyes of his mask matched the intensity of Malone's impenetrable black shades.

"You're rather finicky for a thug. I assure you you'll get your payment, Malone", he replied slowly. "Have a little patience. Once I rebuild my stock of formulas I can sell them and acquire the profits. You'll get your payment then. All you have to do is collect some ingredients and materials for me in the meantime".

Malone held up both hands rapidly and shook his head defiantly.

"A delivery boy? No no no", He said with a grin. "Nothing doing my raggedy friend. Bad enough you aren't paying up front, but I don't run errands for the boring scientist type freaks. Go look for someone else. I'd rather rob a bank or something for someone like the Joker, I'd get more money outta it. He's a guy who knows what he's doing...even if he's crazier then a snake".

This had illicited a cold, humorless laugh from Scarecrow, causing many to recoil, save Malone.

"You'd rather work for a clown who'd shoot you in the back, instead of earning easier cash?", Scarecrow inquired thoughtfully, almost inwardly. He looked around the bar at all the patrons, raising the level of his whispery voice. Those who weren't already watching swiveled around in their stools and chairs to watch.

"You underworld lackey types have been disappointing me far too often as of late. Perhaps I'll return on another day, when I'm feeling less then merciful. You caught me in a pleasant mood"

The cold fear hung over the entire bar at these words. None of them moved, but looked much more uncomfortable as Scarecrow began to pace calmly around the pool table. Of all of them, only Malone was watching the thin villain without possessing a trace of worry. The patter of each step was the only sound as he addressed them all, holding up his scythe.

"Right now, I'm simply grateful to be out of that deathtrap...what's the matter fellows? You all look frightened of me...is it the mask? My choice in attire? Believe me, you aren't scared yet... and I should know something of fear. You over in the corner, no need to continue trembling. What you think scares you is only the tip of a cold glacier I discovered many years ago...consider yourself fortunate. Whatever you've already heard of my...heh...lengthy career, is barely a sliver of what I can accomplish. I promise you all that you will be properly introduced to what fear truly is one of these days".

The silence could have rivaled that of the depths of space.

On that final contemptuous note, Scarecrow had adjusted his patchy, wide brimmed hat, buttoned up his long dirty coat and started across the dusty floor, past numerous tables of the crowded establishment and towards the closed doors. On his way there, he shot one last quick glance over his shoulder at the patrons. The patrons, watching tensely, recoiled fearfully at a single look, much to his delight, and the bartender behind the counter appeared visibly relieved to see him leaving the establishment without burning it to the ground.

_Not tonight anyways._

Over by the pool table, the massive man, Malone, stood watching Scarecrow leave the bar with cool interest, that red tipped match still dangling from his mouth. He'd picked up the long cue again in both hands, but didn't appear to resume his game.

Scarecrow had chose not to ream his scythe's shining blade across Malone's throat. It had been a very long time since someone in the city had had the guts to talk back to one of the costume wearing types. It was rare and something that he'd rather enjoyed seeing. Scarecrow decided he'd tried enough for the night, and had given up. He'd work alone, as he preferred to do anyways.

He closed the door gently behind him and stepped out into the dark and solitude of the streets. He was alone again, his only company coming from the constant flashing of neon lights above their establishments, all the glowing pinks, reds and greens that guided him carefully down the sidewalk, leaving the block. The tapping of the scythe's metal handle against the pavement joining in in a rhythmical fashion that made him smile.

He passed over the streets, not keeping track of the time or how long he walked that night. By the time he reached Crime Alley, passing an abandoned movie theater on his immediate right that had been covered up completely in old, rotting plywood, he was reflecting thoughtfully to himself, considering his next course of action on how to get ahead with his plans.

And so, he had left the drunkard's and filth of the underworld to their rabble and ramblings, talk of pornography, shooting of pool and the swilling of their stained beer mugs and poorly washed glasses like the pathetic parasites they were. Instead of taking action and doing something, all their slack jawed type did was sit around drunk, waiting for things to come to them. Filthy unsophisticated savages without any goals in life...

All of them.

* * *

That had all been only two days ago, and look what he had accomplished without any help in that small amount of time.

_If you want something done right, you must do it yourself...even if it takes longer_, The villain thought with irritation, unfolding his hands. He took a deep breath, the air escaping with a hiss from his mask's nozzles. _One Cannot rely on anybody, especially not these days._

Crane set down the remote carefully on the table, turned the direction of his chair from the television and back to his work and stretched his lanky arms above his head. The doctor adjusted the knotted, severed old noose hanging from his pale, thin neck. Crane looked over at the cut up plant roots and leaves just beside his other samples. He didn't have much left of the hallucinogenic plants... he'd have to pay another visit to Poison Ivy's greenhouse soon, see if she had any more for steal. The place had been unattended, thankfully. She was still incarcerated at Arkham, so Crane couldn't see the plant woman objecting to his thefts. Unfortunately when he broke in a couple days prior, she'd had several gigantic mutated fly traps that had attempted to swallow Crane and squish him with their vines.

He'd been forced to kill one with his trusty scythe, get his desired ingredients and get the hell out right away. If he was lucky, She might not even notice the few plants missing that he'd took, but Crane wouldn't count on that happening. He knew for a fact she would see the remains of the fly trap. Hopefully she wouldn't realize that he'd done it...otherwise her wraith would be unimaginable to calculate.

The doctor extended a gloved hand out and picked up his large notebook, thumbing through it carefully. The formulas and notes had been written up easily. He reached his other hand out at the small recording device sitting on the table, pressed the red button down with a click and continued to dictate his thoughts aloud as the tape started to spin.

"These plants produce the most interesting results in the toxin", he commented as he held one of the leaves up, examining it closely. "I've found a link between their quality and my work. A fresh hallucinogenic type of plant like these makes the hallucinations more severe and frightening to the test subject, as evidenced by my tests upon this apartment's previous occupant. I've noticed that my toxins prior to this latest batch were less effective when the plants remained in storage for several days at a time. For this reason, I must steal more supplies from Doctor Isley's greenhouse while she's away at Arkham. Perhaps by the time she is out I can pay her back...not that it would mean too much to her. But I digress, anyways, I performed the tests upon the boy the previous night in this buildings basement. It proved the most sound proof area around here for that important step of my work...the thick concrete walls proved useful"

The good doctor paused for a few moments in thought. The noise of cars passing through the rain across the street annoyed him. The walls of the apartment did not lessen the noise effectively in the slightest. It was something he'd have to get used to for now, as there was nowhere else to go, yet no matter how hard he tried, it simply irritated him. He had always hated having distractions pop up out of nowhere. It interfered with everything. The noises themselves were starting to sound like they were coming from the inside of the building its self. He pressed on, picking up and tapping one of the broken ends of the pencil on the table as he spoke in his icy scientific tone.

"The test subject simply ended up pathetically whimpering and muttering in a corner after two hours without an antidote. I have already taken recorded tapes of the subject's progression and have them stored safely with my samples. In phase one, it was screaming about it's fear, a flesh eating virus, begging for help. In phase two, sweat heavily poured out of it's body and it became physically weakened. In phase three, it attempted to crawl around on the ground, crying uncontrollably. By phase four I realized I had given it too large a dose, an unintended error, but an interesting one. The subject soon became useless and it had to be disposed of carefully. I have to be sure to go out and acquire more live subjects when I'm done here. Luckily this is a poor district, so bums litter all over the streets begging for change. Perhaps another stop in Crime Alley is called for. I was-... that infernal noise is distracting me from outside... I should blanket this whole district in fear toxin! How can I get anything done in this section of the city with those damned cars speeding by the apartment like it's a race track?"

"I don't think the cars are going to be your only distraction tonight, Scarecrow", a slow seductive voice slipped out of the darkness from somewhere behind his shoulder. Crane felt his heart freeze in his chest like it was being dipped in liquid nitrogen. "There's also us feminine distractions, as you must know. We're better at it too".

* * *

**Wonder who it could be ;). Thank you for reading the beginning, I would appreciate any reviews, thoughts and encouragements a lot :). That way I can make the story even better. I will give some time before posting my next chapter, so you can all see it. Alright, thanks again! :D.**


	2. Chapter 2: Distractions Distractions

**Hush2.0: Thank you for your review! I'm glad you appreciate my getting Croc's real name in there. Don't worry about Jervis, he'll be in it much later for a bit and I already knew his name wasn't spelled Jarvis :D. I did extensive research, in addition to my already comprehensive knowledge. Thanks again!**

**Athulis: Thanks for the review :D. I too think that Harley or Ivy are good pairings for Scarecrow, they both work and maybe ill write some stories like that sometime. Who knows? maybe there will be some hints that Crane has been paired with her before in this story ;). But when you think about it, most of the characters are so interchangeable and work. You needn't worry about this story turning into some kind of Mary Sue story, I'm keeping it dark yet retaining the elements of classic Batman. The reason such great characters like Scarecrow exist is because of people like us who envision this comic universe not being a fairy tale, so try not to lose hope in the Scarecrow fan-base.**

**Spittlebug: Thank you very much for such an intellectual and insightful review. Ironically, it usually takes me awhile to describe things, I have a bit of difficulty at times writing down what I see happening in my head, the imagery. I take my time when it comes to these things though, and the final product usually turns out alright. I appreciate you liking my Scarecrow, I decided early on when writing that it was important to establish that this guy is a villain, and giving him his own characteristics. There isn't going to be a typical "oh, I've been completely cured of my insanity, now i can go on and lead a perfect life" type of resolutions in the end. I'm writing about a deeply tragic, complex and evil villain here, who's degenerating, ravaged mind will be shown soon in the course of the story. Gotham is a city of insanity, but also one with hope. I'm happy that you liked I was able to interest a normally Marvel preferring person. I personally love certain things about both Marvel and DC, and don't understand why they need to be rivals. There are countless stories that could be thought of if they just dropped the arguing and got together. They have such awesome universes where all kinds of possibility's are available. My pairing is indeed unusual, I like doing things that haven't been done before in the course of showing my vision. Hopefully i can inspire more to do the same. Thanks again!**

**Anarchy: Thanks, glad you like it :). Originality is something I strive for in a story.  
**

**I'm happy my first chapter was so well received, thank you all for the favorites and reviews :D i means a lot. This next one will be a little different, specifically because it will involve the start of major interaction, which is one of my favorite themes, and I hope my ideas of how things could go for Catwoman/Scarecrow will be liked. I'm starting to establish ideas and other themes that will be explored later in the story. Just to note though, while the pairing is pretty unique, there were a couple older Catwoman comics that had Catwoman and Scarecrow fighting, and talking a bit. I used some of this as an inspiration. So, without further ado, here you are :) :**

* * *

Crane nearly toppled backwards out of his chair as if a jolting current of electricity had passed throughout his gangly body.

Reacting in a split second on instinct, he dropped his notebook down on the table top, gently kicked the suitcase containing his Fear Toxins further underneath the table to keep them out of sight. Reaching for the Scythe he had recently cleaned from where it lay against the table, he snatched it up in both long fingered hands. The raggedy dressed villain stood bolt upright and spun around to face the dark, feminine figure standing a few meters behind him while fumbling at the same time to turn off the recording device. His dark eyes widened with utter shock as he surveyed who the intruder, was.

The doctor's tense jaw clenched tightly with complete bewilderment.

_What in the..._

The slender woman wore a skin tight, black latex full body suit. Despite covering her up entirely, it's tightness showed off the smooth contours of her amazingly well toned body, right down to the inward bellybutton and particularly her upper chest area. Clearly the woman had worked out quite a bit. She looked even stronger and more fit then the previous time at Arkham that Crane had seen her... even back then she had already been very athletic in appearance. There was no grossly rippling muscles protruding through the latex either, but a powerful figure that remained feminine.  
In the faint glow of the light, her outfit struck Crane as looking almost like a glistening layer of black glass instead of an actual outfit. She stood casually beside a now open window on the wall across the room to his right. The cold breeze rolled into the apartment, causing the window's long white curtains to shift slightly back and forth.

While Crane watched, she absent absentmindedly closed the window beside her without taking her glowing red, goggle covered eyes off the doctor. Water dripped off her frame from the stormy night outside. Her right gloved hand was resting comfortably on her curvy hip. There was a knowing smile on the exposed lower section of her attractive. Perched on the top of either side of her mask protruded a pair of thin, pointy catlike ears, made up of the same sleek latex as the outside of the suit.

The woman slowly placed the small, red tinted goggles on her eyes up to her masked forehead, revealing them fully. They were a deep and piercing, looking like they could stop a bullet in mid air with one stare. From her distance, however, he couldn't quite make out what color they were. She was an above average height young woman, seemingly in her late twenties and standing at least 5' 7". Crane wasn't sure how high the heels of her black, high heeled military style boots were, but they certainly would help with height. A long black bullwhip, it's end coiled on the floor was held loosely at her side in her left hand as if she had no intention of using it, or was even aware she had it. Around her latex covered neck, the doctor could see she wore some kind of a metal cat collar.

Long white stitches stood out in the dim light the room offered like vicious scars of varying sizes all over her sleek suit. They ran up, down and across her catsuit and even her mask at various random points, but were focused on her legs, arms and chest especially. One such stitching on her mask ran in two directions. It went from the forehead and moved all the way down where it ended on the latex above her left eyebrow and the latex above the tip of her nose.

Crane took a deep breath and regained his composure, yet was still unsure how to react to the intrusion, given he didn't know what her intentions were yet.

_Is she here to kill me? I must not allow her to harm my work's progress!_

"Hey stud, it looks like the cat got your tongue. Don't you have anything to say?", The woman asked, her tone still low and seductive. "Or are you just going to stand there gawking, instead of inviting a girl in?".

Somehow, he managed to find his voice. As he did so, another ripple of thunder growled outside the window, much closer this time. It seemed to travel right over top of the building until vanishing.

"It appears that you invited yourself in already", Scarecrow replied suddenly, with a start. His voice became a quiet, whispery rasp. "I don't like interruptions young woman".

"It appears that we both did... but I thought your home was a cell at Arkham", She teased coolly. "This is a little bigger then your usual cage, huh?".

_What the hell is this?, _Crane thought wildly, glancing about the room. The cold grip of anxiety was starting to seize his rapidly firing heart, as it always did for him when facing an unknown factor or sudden situation. _Catwoman...here? Isn't she working with the little bat? Is he coming too?  
_

"Miss Kyle...", the Scarecrow rasped out confusedly. His twitchy grip tightened on the scythe's long handle. "What are you doing in here? How dare you! Explain yourself!".

Selina Kyle stared calmly back at the rigid figure with faint amusement. She cocked an eyebrow, examining the tall, shabbily dressed and shockingly thin man in front of her, taking in every detail just as he had done. He looked skinner all over, raggedier then ever and even more weak in appearance then he had the last time she saw him in person, back at the asylum. The past months in that dungeon must have been pretty rough to him. She wouldn't forget what some of the guards had been like to the patients there. It looked as if a strong gust of wind could knock the man right off his feet. Her bright lips pursed ever so slightly.

His fading dark brown costume was heavily patched, sewn together with white stitching and frayed from overuse. The stitches ran over just about everything: legs, arms, stomach, chest... even his waist. The wide brimmed dark hat perched on his head looked in no better condition then the rest. He had even stitched an extra optional head-wear onto his outfit. Poking out the back of the collar was a small brown hood that he could raise over his head if his hat had been lost or wrecked.  
Scarecrow's limbs were very gangly, long and delicate looking from where she stood. The unnaturally thin, spindly legs of his costume's pants had three dark straps with rusty metal buckles connecting around each of them. From how skinny he was, she had little doubt they were helping to keep the shabby trousers from falling down around his ankles. They had been fastened up high on the legs, and another larger strap was buckled and looped around his waistline.

Similar, yet thinner dark straps had been secured around his arms intricately, particularly his right arm, that seemed to possess a kind of rusty metal wrist gauntlet with five glowing yellow thin tubes running down it. The straps were fastened on his pale, bony, almost non existent looking biceps. Both of which were clearly visible due to large tears in the fabric. Only a few bits of the material and the intertwined straps held the sleeves and shoulder fabric together.

His obviously homemade...or asylummade to be more accurate, and improvised outfit was kind of interesting, she had to admit. It had clearly taken a lot more innovative thought and planning to create then her own had. He probably hadn't had the proper sewing equipment when putting it all together, unlike her own costume.

Her deep eyes moved up the frame of his frail body to the mask covering his entire head like an x-ray. It looked like a bizarre combination of an old gas mask, possessing twin metal nozzles, and a sinister stitched on face behind it. A long sewn up mouth portion in between the nozzles made it appear he was grinning maliciously like a Jack O' Lantern back at her, enjoying some kind of sick joke. It's mouth even seemed to pulse and reverberate as he spoke, adding to the odd effect it exuded. The eyes of the mask were very dark and deep as if no one was at home. At this distance, she couldn't see the eyes that lay behind. Around his neck hung a knotted and severed noose as if he'd been cut down from the gallows of some execution yard.

She slowly slunk a couple steps forward, causing him to recoil backwards and drawn in a cautious breath. She tilted her head. He had no idea what was in store for him.

"Relax Johnathan. You're wound up tight enough to pop right out of your costume...and please, call me Catwoman, won't you?", Catwoman insisted gently.

At that, she looked down at her own wet costume and smiled widely with her blood red, lipstick covered lips. Suddenly she started shaking herself enthusiastically, the water flew off in torrents onto the carpeted floor below. As she did so, there was the faint tinkering sound of her cat collar shaking and the zipper up by her neck clinking against the metal teeth. Despite this action, her sleek black frame fitting outfit remained fully soaked on the outside, the faint glow of the lamps bouncing off it.

Crane started to feel himself growing slightly awkward and uncomfortable at this unexpected and rapid movement of her body, along with her casual use of his first name. He was rarely called by that name, besides his prior doctors and Harley occasionally. Thankfully his full mask kept his uncomfortableness with the situation hidden. Right then anyways.

"Much better. Felines don't typically like the wet weather, but coming here was certainly worth it, I have to admit", she purred softly. Catwoman stared over at his rigid posture and smiled again. "Why so worried, doctor?"

Crane let himself resume breath slowly, but maintained a firm stare in her direction.

"I'm not. If you're here to rob the apartment, do not bother, Catwoman... I stole the place myself to complete my own work, and I need it. There's nothing here for you that is worth taking anyways", Scarecrow rasped out coldly.

"So I see", Catwoman replied, glancing around the apartment. She started moving about, running her hands over the various objects in the room, the small television set, the shabby couch and other things. She spoke softly as she walked about the apartment, her long vicious looking whip trailing behind her across the floor.  
"Poor neighborhood around this district. So, I've heard it through the grapevine that you broke out of Arkham with Croc and Dent... murdered a few of those pig guards in the process. Nicely done Johnathan, that nuthouse is rather poor at holding in us villains, wouldn't you agree?"

Scarecrow cleared his throat at this objectively, drawing an unseen smile from the slender shadow.

"I wouldn't precisely call you a villain, young woman. That term seems inaccurate when applied to you. You might commit crimes and chaos behind a costume sometimes, but I've heard too of your vigilante work with the bat, along with your... relationship", the doctor stated icily, extending a long, accusatory finger in her wondering direction. He felt the stirrings of anxiety twisting in his stomach...he didn't like it. Why couldn't she just stand still? "You're probably here on his behalf for all I know, spying on me and my work, aren't you? Admit it".

Catwoman stopped what she was doing and turned back around, her smooth pale face full of complete wide eyed innocence.

"You don't trust me, Johnathan? That hurts my feelings. I'm simply like the rest of you, trying to make my way in the world. You don't need to worry so much, I think you've been out of the loop being cooped up at Arkham. Me and the Bat lost our connection months ago", She said calmly. There was no change in her casual tone. "Besides, I think he prefers spending his time trying to help Poison Ivy 'get better'... he spends a suspicious amount of time over there at the asylum visiting that green woman, some days when he isn't scouring the city, that is."

Scarecrow's thin face twisted in confusion under his mask at this surprising information. His unpleasant stirrings of anxiety were forgotten for a split second.

"Poison Ivy and the little bat?", He rasped incredulously, scratching the wide brim of his patchy hat without thinking. "You are kidding with me, certainly".

"Nope", Catwoman replied smiling. "A couple months ago he brought her back to Arkham after she tried to murder a construction CEO of of the city or something... a skyscraper designer named Trimbel, I think. She was mad about something plant related again no doubt. The next day he made sure she was relocated from her dark cell into a nicer one full of flowers and sunlight. I'm just surprised you didn't hear it from Quinn's gossip, she's Ivy's best friend, and you know how fast word travels around that place with her around".

Scarecrow had indeed heard Harley's gossip before actually. In fact, he had to hear it every single day back at Arkham. She was in the cell opposite to him. Regardless of this, Catwoman had to surely be exaggerating about that particular gossip.

"I've heard her gossip stories frequently", Scarecrow rasped with a dismissive shrug of his bony shoulders. "I merely tune it out when she gets quite into it. Harley is a wonderful child and a good friend. I like her, but she talks far too much at times. But that isn't important right now, you didn't answer my question: what are you doing here? How did you find me?".

Catwoman rested both hands against her slender hips now, a playful smirk touching the blood red lips. She glanced around the apartment, taking in all the details, then turned a pitying look over at Scarecrow.

"I don't see any of your dimwitted lackeys hanging around the place Johnathan... don't tell me you're all alone up here".

Scarecrow narrowed eyes flickered slightly. What concern could it be to her that he was alone? He decided to skip the story of his previous failed attempt at finding new henchman and chose to mention his previous one's before his last arrest.

"They're in Blackgate awaiting trials", he answered unconcernedly without elaborating beyond that. "Stop avoiding my simple question and answer".

"I came out here to give you a little company... and some fun, Mister Scarecrow", she replied slowly, throwing him a seductive wink. "Just like you came here to perform some of your 'fun' experiments".

Scarecrow's cautious stance relaxed a little more. With a low sigh, he reached down and cautiously spun the chair around to face Catwoman's direction. There was no way he was going to turn his back to her. He sat in his chair again, setting the scythe down against the table, close beside himself. Just in case.

"My work here is extremely difficult, young woman, it's far different from your definition of 'fun' ", Scarecrow rasped to her impatiently. He held out his hands, motioning to the entire front room and back to the equipment covered table. "I came here more to hide from the police. The real fun would be being the one releasing these toxins upon those filthy Gotham citizens... on a school perhaps. Instead I must sell these to one of the other villains so I can get out of this poor excuse for a building. My latest stay in Arkham has made me a rather poor man, as you can see. My work will be no easier with you here trying to distract and bother me either. I do not require 'company' ".

She didn't hear his last sentence.

"But that's just a part of the fun, Scarecrow, distracting and bothering you", Catwoman informed him, her piercing eyes noticing the small, tiled floor kitchen just past the living room.  
She moved across the length of the living room and came to a stop in the kitchen at the dark fridge on her immediate left sitting beside a long counter. Catwoman opened the fridge door swiftly, fumbled around inside, knocking a few things over and then pulled out a white carton of milk.

"Do you mind Johnathan?", She asked loudly over her shoulder, but had tilted her head back and was already drinking from it before Scarecrow could answer.

Doctor Crane felt his brain growing more numb, if it were possible. He watched as she drank delightedly from the carton. What was this young woman doing here? He simply wasn't used to being in the company of a female outside of Arkham and it made him feel...alien. He was much more used to focusing solely on his work and being left well enough alone by the city's other villains. Even Joker usually left the doctor alone unless he wanted something.

None of this made any sense... but then again, when had anything made sense in his life? It seemed like things just kept getting weirder somehow.

"Mmm... that was... refreshing", Catwoman commented softly as she placed the milk carton back inside and closed the fridge. She wiped her lips sensually with the back of her hand. "Now, where were we? Hmm..."

Catwoman was starting to saunter away from the fridge, moving across the carpet and closer to Scarecrow now. There was an expression on her face that Crane couldn't quite determine. Seduction? Cunning? Crane wasn't sure. The psychology of fear was his field of expertise, not the expressions on others faces and their feelings, but he knew it was something. If he had to make a guess, she looked almost like a hunter eying it's prey before striking. A knot of fear twisted in his stomach as he watched her gleaming eyes.

_I had better head her off before she tries anything.._.

"You were leaving", Crane informed her awkwardly, in his haste accidentally letting his voice becoming less raspy through the filters.

He shifted his thin frame uncomfortably and motioned over to the apartment's front door across the room. A long dark cord ran in front of the locked door and all the way up to another Scythe being held up tightly near the ceiling by the cord. It would have been quite messy if she'd not entered through the window.

"And kindly go back out through the window, as you can see I placed a trap on the front door in case the police try to surprise me. I might need it. I don't want prying eyes looking at or stealing my progress. So... well, yes. Anyways, you may leave now, young woman".

To Crane's surprise, she didn't. Defiance wasn't something he was used to getting. Usually his name alone would send countless people fleeing...but he didn't seem to have that effect on her. Rather then obey Crane, she continued to step forward to where he sat at the table.

_She's insane!_, Crane thought blankly. _Why-_

"Ohh, it sounds like you've lost your big 'scary', raspy voice, hmm? I didn't see you taking a cough drop or anything", Catwoman teased softly. She moved ever closer across the carpeted floor, finally coming to a steady stop in front of Crane's occupied chair. She placed both her hands on either side of his bony shoulders, much to his surprise. "Using your cute, nervous doctor's voice? No, I don't think I was going anywhere Johnathan. I came here for a reason, you know".

Before he knew what was happening, she had had sat down on, and had slid her bottom smoothly across his knees and into his lap, raising both her legs up. She looped a slender yet powerful right arm up and around the back of his neck. Her gloved hand started to stroke the back of his masked head rhythmically, clearly enjoying herself.

Scarecrow's tense jaw slowly dropped agape as her face came to a stop within mere inches of his own masked one, his arms were laying stiffly at his side. Her bright eyes seemed to pierce right through his dark one's, as if seeing the face hidden on the other side. He finally could spot the color tone her pupils possessed, being an attractive yet eerie shade of turquoise. It felt as if they were piercing the very thoughts that lay in his brain behind his own shadowed eyes. The eyelids themselves slowly closed halfway, taking on a gentle, pleading look that made him feel small.

"Please don't send a poor kitty back out there in the cold", Catwoman purred softly, tightening her grip around the doctor. Her shapely body hugged ever closer into the doctor's thin chest.

If she really was cold, she was showing no sign of it. Then again, perhaps the catsuit acted as a wetsuit too, with an insulated interior or some such thing.

The doctor clamped his mouth shut and swallowed hard, taken off balance. He was being trapped in the pair of spotlights that were her eyes. As he stared back in mute surprise, his conflicted mind became blank, simply unable to process what was happening. He didn't send her back outside. Catwoman quickly took advantage of his loss of words and continued forward.

"It's been such a long time since I've seen you, Johnathan dear", Catwoman purred happily. Again, she tightened her warm embrace ever so slightly around his neck, causing Scarecrow's pounding heart to skip a beat. "Almost a year now. I missed you, you know. How have you been keeping lately big boy?"

The masked villain swallowed hard, taking a deep, steadying breath. She had missed him? 'Big boy'? Nonsense alien words. He barely even had had much contact with her in his life! What the hell was she talking about? He was pencil thin for Christ's sake, how did that equate to big?

"Why do you keep referring to me by that...name? 'Johnathan'?", Scarecrow rasped with genuine bewilderment. "It's Scarecrow."

"Oh but it hasn't always been", Catwoman answered without any hesitation. "It's your real name, isn't it?"

Unable to find the proper words, Scarecrow chose not to argue the point further, letting it go for the moment along with a low, shaky breath. The young woman in his lap smiled victoriously and continued.

"Now, how have you been keeping, Johnathan?", she asked, placing extra, gloating emphasis upon his name.

"Alive", Scarecrow managed to rasp uncomfortably. His mask's dark pupils darted back and forth anxiously... and apparently she was close enough to his mask to see this. "So far"

"You aren't used to this, are you?", asked Catwoman, now whispering seductively. It didn't seem to be a question, more a genuine factual statement. She leaned her face even closer, if it were possible. Her lips were now barely an inch in front of the sewn up mouth of his mask as she spoke. A bead of warm sweat was starting to form on his forehead as he watched them move slowly.

"Used to what?", Scarecrow whispered back awkwardly. To his own surprise, his right hand laying at his side betrayed him and started to twitch nervously. He clenched it into a ball to keep her from seeing as much. "Costumed women breaking into my hideouts? No, I'm not. The only kind who breaks in to see me is usually an over sized rat whose sadism equals my own."

Catwoman let out a pretty, tittering laugh that made Scarecrow feel even more nervous. It carried like a beautiful melody through the air into his welcoming ears beneath the mask. He hadn't heard a laugh quite like that in his life...there was something appreciative to it.

"No no Johnathan, not that.", She whispered back warmly. The gorgeous masked woman blinked her dark, mascara covered eyelashes at him with a deeply rooted sensuality in the eyes themselves. As he stared into them, he couldn't help thinking they held a strange note of hypnosis and control that even Hugo Strange would envy. Her voice's tone grew rather thoughtful. "I meant you must not be used to a strong woman paying attention to you like this... one who actually knows what she wants from a man and isn't afraid to go out and get it. You might be insane and evil... but you're certainly no Joker, are you? You're still a real man, one with some clear desires... I can see it, no matter how well you try hiding them behind your obsessions and work."

"I do not have any idea what you're talking-

"Tell me something Johnathan... won't you? Are you intimidated by me? Is it because of my body?"

With that, she grinned widely, the bright blinding whites of her teeth flashing, and snuggled even closer to the villain paralyzed in her comfortable embrace around his bony shoulders.

Crane's eyebrows, that had been rising previously, narrowed sharply at these wry toned questions. He could feel his hollowed cheeks slowly burning red with aghast embarrassment as anxiety slammed through his body. His mind finally caught up with him and he cursed himself for losing his voice previously. The doctor simply wasn't used to having this seductive type of attention. It made him feel...weak.

_Doesn't she even know who I am? I fear nothing!  
_

"I'm not scared of anything!", Crane insisted loudly, his voice achieving a higher, almost dramatic pitch through the mask's filters. His eyes bulged widely underneath the sinister mask as he spoke. "I spread the fear! I am the God Of Fear! The Scarebeast! The Lord of Terror and Despair! I am nothing like those... pathetic male creatures who live out there polluting the city with their very presence! Or those so called 'doctors' and 'scientists' at the university who's methods are hopelessly limited! I am the true genius of this city! All citizens of Gotham will face their worst nightmares, a hell on earth, once I-

There was a loud crack as Catwoman, in one instantaneous moment, snapped her twelve foot long bullwhip up in the air over their heads with the arm not wrapped around Crane. It instantly struck the doctor silent, ending his angry, anxious rant and made him recoil underneath her powerful frame in surprise and renewed anxiety. The cord fell back down to the floor in a coil, the handle still held tightly.

"You're all talk, 'Scarebeast'. You've been suffering delusions of grandeur from the sounds of it", Catwoman whispered sensually to the thin man, smiling mischievously. "Your work has you paranoid, isolated, wound up far too tight and away from the real world that lays out there beyond your microscopes. I think I can help you with that problem".

Scarecrow felt the beads of sweat starting on his brow progressing. He couldn't help stealing a glance downwards, noticing again that her costume was indeed rather... well fitting. To say the least. It was difficult not to notice with her huddled up tightly against him like this. Her body looked very strong, yet it was a shapely feminine frame at the same time.  
The way that the smooth black latex hugged tightly over her large breasts, revealing every...- the doctor quickly reached a tattered gloved hand and adjusted his noose again uncomfortably as a mental distraction. He shook his head, attempting to clear it of the newly forming, shamefully animalistic and primitive thoughts he simply wasn't used to having. He felt feelings stirring, one's long buried for the sake of maintaining rationality of the mind. Why on earth was he thinking this way?

Above all, he hoped beyond everything that she couldn't feel the steadily stiffening organ beneath the zipper of his shabby, buckle covered pants. His hollow cheeks seemed to blaze hotter then the sun with shame, beneath that ever present maliciously grinning scarecrow mask.

_I should have kept my damned coat on,_ Crane thought to himself wearily.

"I...I don't need any help, I just don't need a... well, a latex dressed crazy cat lady in here...groping me...", He insisted awkwardly, biting at his dry lower lip neurotically. "I'm a scientist, young lady! I, well-

Catwoman smiled to herself. Crane wasn't just a master of fear, he was also a confused man who obviously had minuscule to no real experience talking this way to the opposite sex. It was pretty ironic, the Scarecrow was easily frightened and shy of seductive women, whether he would admit to it or not. Much to her further delight, she could feel an obvious swelling now occurring in his lap. It was digging against the tight waistline of her catsuit, but she said nothing of it.

Feeling assured of her dominance, the young woman pressed her obvious advantage again. This was far too easy.

"You're not exactly the model of sanity either, Johnathan", Catwoman replied wryly. She removed the arm from around his neck and slid smoothly off his lap, standing up slowly and being sure to take her time.

There was another odd feeling rising in him now. Crane felt slightly... disappointed, as she got up. Why? She was of no importance to him and never had been. He forced the foreign feelings aside for the moment as he watched her rising.

"I'm here now Mister Scarecrow. Being a scientist has nothing nothing to do with this... I think I know what you need. You clearly haven't had too many women around in your life, have you?".

"Would you get out of here? Please-

Catwoman paid no attention to his confused words. He was rapidly losing his conviction. She simply stepped past his chair and started to examine his vast array of chemical formulas and equipment laying on the table.

"This is your work?", Catwoman asked him playfully. "It look's interesting"

Forcing back a fresh wave of awkwardness, Crane grasped this opportunity and forced back his professional attitude. It was easy, given his attachment to his work. He clutched at the chance to discuss his progress to a pair of ears that would listen. He stood up uncomfortably and turned away from her sight for a moment, adjusting his pants. Thank god the costume hid everything so well in a standing position. She probably hadn't felt it. Crane rubbed his shoulder, took a step past the chair and joined her over at the table. He motioned down at his work with a gloved hand.

"As you can see before you young lady, I'm getting far in my progress here. Those butchers at Arkham tried to make me stop my experiments, but had little success. Though, that's hardly surprising. I don't think they've 'cured' a single person since they started that place up", Crane commented, his tone serious. "They've probably started hiring doctors who plagiarized their papers off greater men then themselves".

Catwoman continued to slink nimbly around the width of the table, speaking clearly as she moved.

"Who's your doctor back there Johnathan?", She asked, not taking her eyes off the table. "Mine used to be Wilson... she tried convincing me this costume wasn't 'healthy' and not to wear it... good luck on that happening. The costume is half the thrill you know".

Crane smirked to himself snidely and stared down at his work.  
_  
I may as well keep talking... she'll probably get bored of me much quicker and leave.  
_  
"I've had Wilson, West and Young", he rasped back. "Young is a naive little girl who thinks she understands her work, I often have to lecture her on what the mind truly is. West is no better, the shock therapy's he give me are far too ineffective. I simply have to keep critiquing his work. Wilson, though, I shan't be surprised when Zsasz ends up cutting her to pieces."

He shook his masked head bitterly.

"Three doctors?", Catwoman asked smoothly. Her piercing turquoise eyes shot up and held him for a moment, transfixed. "I'm impressed. You must keep them very busy".

"Very much so. A doctor must be able to handle being busy when you work at Arkham..so I do my part like the others.", Scarecrow rasped. He leaned over the table, replaced the sample under the microscope with a new one laying inside a clear dish and carefully observed it through the lens. "The patients at Arkham did the same to me when I worked there in-between teaching at the university. Why were you sent to the Asylum, Miss Kyle? I never understood that. Last time I checked you were usually a regular at Blackgate like Cobblepot or Bane".

Unseen to Scarecrow, Catwoman shrugged as if it were of no account.

"They must have decided to start keeping the costumed freaks together at Arkham", She reasoned coolly. "I agreed to a deal that would send me there instead of Blackgate for five to ten years. Sharp probably wants to prove himself by 'curing' all of us costumed criminals... that would be great for his reputation. I'm sure you know how much he'd like to beat Hill in the next election."

The slender woman came to a stop beside Crane after having circled the length of the table. She knelt low beside the microscope and picked up a bubbling formula from the table, surveying it with a crooked smile. Her gaze dropped again to the cluttered table, specificity to the tattered black notebook. With her other hand, she picked it up too. Scarecrow moved his face away from the sample on the microscope and looked over to her.

"What are these?", She asked curiously, staring back into his grinning mask. The seductive young woman carefully flipped through the notebook, examining his eccentric scrawl on the wrinkled, yellowing pages. "Your research notes or something?"

Crane's eyes bulged again as he watched her hold the bubbling green formula, realizing what it was. All professional pretense flew right out the window. His mind was instantly filled by a flood of anxiety and terror.

"Don't you dare touch those!", He shouted wildly, standing up and waving his arms up and down. "They are key component to producing my fear toxins! This is my finest work in so many months! Trapped in that wicked asylum with nothing to make, no test subjects... it nearly rotted my mind and wasted my talents!".

He desperately moved forwards and reached for it. Before his hand could make contact with the glass, however, Catwoman had snapped the book shut and gracefully moved around the other side of the table. She glanced behind her, noticing the other rain flecked window on the wall of her side of the table. Crane watched her eyes narrow upon it, reading her likely thoughts with shock.  
Catwoman turned back to Crane, a delightful and wicked smile forming on her ghostly face. She reached behind herself and quickly slid the window up with a bang, the bitter, cold air entering the room like a wave of ice. Crane watched in horror as the slender figure took another step back and extended both her arms outside, holding the formula and notebook through the window and exposing it to downpour of rain. Water dripped off the cover of the book, much to his chagrin.

She glanced back over her toned shoulder at the tense man with the fingers of his gloves tightened fearfully.

"Oh!...I think I'm onto something here, aren't I?", Catwoman asked, a thin eyebrow arched. "You're starting to unwind a little, let out your feeling with your hard work in danger".

Beads of sweat started to slide down Crane's forehead underneath the mask and his jaw clenched. He attempted to reason with her, if it were possible. Negotiation had never been one of the doctor's strong points.

"No! Don't you dare drop it or I'll...- I mean, well, I need that to...you see-

But she would have none of it.

"This is where the the good part starts, Crane", Catwoman interrupted him, her tone playful. The shining glow in her eyes almost seemed brighter. "Villains need it too, and there are so many ways for us to have fun".

"That's years of research! You can't just-

With a slight tilt of her head, Catwoman's chalky pale face smiled at the gangly villain darkly.

"Can't I?"

"Wait, no!"

Before Doctor Crane could open his mouth to speak again, he watched in mute, paralyzed horror as she let go of the valuable mixture, his best work. The glass mixing bottle plummeted down into the wet parking lot four story's down, and shattered into a thousand pieces as it impacted, spilling its contents and shards all over the cold pavement.

In a flash, she had thrown open both sides of his dark notebook, tore out the pages roughly in one pull and threw them out right after the formula. The yellowing pages fluttered down every which way from one another. Some littered the parking lot, falling on to various murky puddles, while most traveled on the breeze. The high winds would eventually carry the soaking wet, ruined papers all across Gotham city.

"NO!", Crane thundered through his mask. His single rage filled word carried through the entire floor and illicited another nasty smile from the latex covered woman.

Moving forward, doctor Crane tore frantically around the side of the table to Catwoman's side and shoved his head out the window, his mouth gaping open wide as he spotted his shattered sample at the bottom of the apartment building. It was too late. He stood frozen in the window, the rain dripping down his hat and onto his mask and he gripped the window frame tightly.  
It had taken so long to complete, and both pieces of work had been key for producing the other toxin samples. He'd have to start rewriting the notes from scratch by searching his brain for the answers. He'd have to reproduce the toxins all over again and there probably wouldn't be enough time at this hideout.

Bright sparks started to form in the depths of his mind. Crane slowly turned to face the pale, latex covered woman at his side, and she started laughing delightfully at him.

"You-

"Do you see what I mean? It's fun, causing you all this trouble... plus you're far too cowardly to do anything about it...aren't you?", she managed to interrupt through gales of laughter. "Ichabod".

There was a mocking, knowing smile forming on those smooth red lips at the last word.

This completely unexpected and needless reminder of his childhood tormentors was the final straw for Crane. A flashing torrent, memories of his bullying experiences reminded him of his sickly twisted 'great grandmother', neglectful 'mother', cowardly 'father' and all the others, a suffocating horde of tormentors he'd encountered in the course of his life. It made the sparks erupt in Crane's mind, turning all thoughts into a raging river of molten uncontrollable fire. Everything in the apartment seemed to become blocked out from his vision, apart from this taunting costumed woman in front of him, laughing wildly at him and his ruined work.

A voice came to him, then. As it had been doing for years now, slithering through the depths of his thoughts, rising to the surface of his mind and whispering a single word in his ear with that inhumanly cruel voice belonging to it. He welcomed it. His thoughts quickly formed into a one simple act and he let that rasping whisper guide the next action his body took.

_**Attack.

* * *

**_**And so, there you go everybody, the end of Ch 2 :D. It looks like things are going to get a little... uh, bloody, for our 'hero'. Just as a note, the Batman and Poison Ivy thing (more of which will come into play) comes from an amazing and underrated one shot comic book about the two and their relationship. It's called 'Batman and Poison Ivy: Cast Shadows', and I highly recommend reading it. For my Catwoman, Michelle Pfieffer's version in Batman Returns was a huge inspiration, being my favorite. ;) Thanks again, any reviews and thoughts are much appreciated :D.**_**  
**_


	3. Chapter 3: A Bloody Mess Of Things

**Acacia24:** **Thank you very much for your review :) I really appreciate it. It's always fun to get into the personality of the characters I'm writing about, I pride myself in being as faithful to the characters as possible, while showing my own views. I did do a lot of research, the research it's self is as fun as writing the story. Thanks again! **

**Heaven O. Waits:** **I thank you for the review :). I'm glad the story amazes you, I did indeed take a long time writing this entire story, planning it out, putting down my own imagination and adding the hints and elements of other Batman things like the comics and movies. I love making it a blend of the whole Batman mythos, it's something that hasn't really be tried before. From how it's going, it was all worth the time and effort I took :). Thank you :)**

**No Name: Wow, such a long awesome review :D thank you. I appreciate how much you agree with my ideas regarding these two, there's a lot they can do with one another in this comic universe. I'm also happy that this is the story you've been waiting for, it means there are other people out there with my vision. When it comes to the elements of romance, I don't intend for this story to turn into fluff or anything. I find that the elements of romance in a good story must play off of other themes and turns in the plot to keep it realistic and gritty, something that true readers want to see. This will be a darkly themed tale with a lot of trial and endurance inbound for Scarecrow over the course of it, I can't spoil everything yet, but this won't descend into unrealistic fluff. I'm glad I've left you speechless lol, it means I'm doing this right. Oh, and that Crane having a history of being handled by dominant women thing? I think you'll be pleasantly surprised ;). Thank you very much! I hope the story lives up to your wishes.  
**

**I'm pleased that at only two chapters into this long, unusual story, so many people are appreciating my work and vision. I'm getting into Scarecrows twisted mind now, starting to show his mind's inner conflicts and workings, between himself and a voice. I hope this proves effective. Comics have fascinated me for awhile now, and i hope one day to actually write them for a company. I have so many ideas and things that haven't been attempted before, and feel like I could give a lot to the DC and Marvel universes. Who knows? Maybe it'll happen one day. In the meantime, I hope that you enjoy this as much as I did writing it :) :  
**

* * *

The Scarecrow shot out his long arm in a flash and caught Catwoman directly in the exposed tip of her small nose with his bony, gloved hand. She staggered backwards a couple steps from the force of the impact and right into a bookcase, bringing her to a stop rather quickly. A small but thick book on the top shelf fell off and struck the back of her head forcefully, causing her to utter a grunt. Scarecrow felt a wave of savage delight pass over himself as the smile was knocked off her face.

She crouched down on her feet now, her expression turning into one of hurt as her wide piercing eyes glanced up, meeting the soulless black pair sunken into his mask.

"How could you do that to me, doctor?", Catwoman asked sadly, holding her nose with one of her gloved hands. "I'm a woman!"

_**Kill her. Slash her to pieces.**_

Scarecrow started to move away from the window now and towards her, clenching and unclenching his bony, gloved fists viciously. He was dully aware of the pain striking her had caused himself, there would be bruising, but it didn't matter now how weak he was physically compared to her. She wouldn't get away from his wraith unscathed.

_**She dares...she dares-**_

"That likely works on the Little Bat, my dear", Scarecrow rasped venomously. His voice turned almost inhuman through the nozzles resting on his mask. He moved forward with a self confident, long legged stride. "I am not like The Bat...there is only Scarecrow!"

Catwoman's wounded expression instantly transformed back to her delighted smile upon hearing this. She removed her hand from her face and examined the glove as if nothing had taken place, slowly rising up to her feet. Several drops of blood had trailed out of her nose and onto the sleek glove. She looked up as a tiny bit of blood dribbled down to her already red upper lip.

The sudden act of violence only seemed to spur her, enthuse her, rather then intimidate.

"That's more like it, 'Ichabod'. Take the night off, let's play", Catwoman whispered excitedly. She bent her knees slightly and slunk away from the advancing figure nimbly.  
"It's time for you to cut loose. Be a real man. Don't be so wound up all the time, consumed with the whole 'Mad Scientist' thing. It's cute, but you can be so much more then merely that. The isolated villain".

**_Standing there, laughing at you._**

_That name... how did she-_**_  
_**

Catwoman grinned ferociously as she rose her whip again and lashed out powerfully at the cluttered table top several times. The loud crack of the whip echoed through the apartment. Most of the remaining formulas were knocked clear off the table from the impacts, across the room and into the far wall, shattering them. Their corrosive glowing liquids ate at the dry wall for a few moments, smoking, but stopped quickly. They had not been mixed, and weren't potent enough to release any fear inducing gases into the air.

Pieces of paper fluttered through the air and back onto the table. Some of the microscopes hadn't been smashed off by the whip, but were now knocked over, broken gears, focus knobs and other important bits rolling across the table and falling to the floor. The only item of his month's of hard work remaining was the dark recording device and the tapes within. Even then, of what real use were they without the rest?

_**Are you going to stand there gawking while she destroys your hard work?**_", The voice rasped with a horrible, frightening intensity. _**ACT!**_

Scarecrow felt as if his head would explode. Rage and heat pulsed through his mind in a torrent as he looked into the woman's wild eyes. He lurched forward again. She raised the whip up again and cracked it several times, mere inches in front of Scarecrow's face. He felt himself recoil back slightly, away from the bite of the razor sharp lashings.

"Down boy!", She demanded, her seductive tone now dripping with uncontrolled viciousness. "Or you might get yourself scratched".

Catwoman raised a hand up suddenly and tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. Her movements seemed unnatural to the doctor...far more graceful and fluid-like then he'd ever seen in a person. Five vicious looking blades extended from tiny metal objects fastened into the fingertips of the tight fitting latex glove.

_**Those are barely toothpicks, doctor. Strangle her and be done with it.**_

"Come to kitty little Crow", Catwoman commanded, holding him with an unnatural gaze. Her eyes...her eyes, they were reaching a level of feverish intensity that would have frozen him in his tracks if he weren't so angry. He hadn't realized until then how positively huge they could be. She moved her sharp fingers slowly back and forth and clacked the dark, rusty blades together. "I like to play with my food... you aren't exactly a fish, but you'll still do nicely".

Without warning, Scarecrow burst forward over the crunch of glass under his feet, charging at her with both hands held out to throttle her. At the last moment she dodged nimbly to the side with her years of honed reflexes, and Scarecrow ran full speed into the bookcase. He ignored the pain of the impact as the rest of the books rained down on him, knocking his raggedy, wide brimmed hat right off his head and to the floor.

As he thrashed and turned blindly to face Catwoman's general direction, there was a familiar deafening crack of a bullwhip, followed by a terrible burning sensation along his left arm. Crane grimaced, glanced down and watched as blood started oozing down the length of his arm. The bright red liquid dripped out the end of the sleeve from the torn and soaked fabric.  
Blood slowly dripped to the floor. Scarecrow glanced up in time to see Catwoman's razor sharp claws sink into his bony right shoulder. The claws worked their way down to and over his chest, tearing the fabric and flesh apart easily, spilling fresh blood and stopping near his stomach. Scarecrow bared his teeth in pain, holding back an agonized scream threatening to escape his mask. She tore back the blood stained and dripping red claws out of his chest, panting delightedly.

"Do you like my claws, Little Crow?", She whispered eerily. The young woman smiled nastily into Scarecrow's pitiless black eyes. She seemed to draw strength from the wounds she'd inflicted on him, his loss of blood bolstering her aroused state of mind. Deep inside, Crane felt a cold stirring of fear and was ashamed for it. He immediately shunted it to the side. "I hope that was as good for you as it was for me".

_What the hell is she?_

_**It's merely pain Doctor. We both know the wound looks worse then it really is. Blank it out and try again.**_

Scarecrow touched the oozing claw wounds with his gloved hand, and dark stains soaked over the palm. He clenched his shaking fist again in rage, steadying himself. Slowly he felt the pain ebbing, encouraging him to continue onward.

"Come sample a taste of oblivion if you are still hungry!", Scarecrow rasped back darkly, advancing over to her again.

He swung instinctively at her face with his right fist. She reached up with both hands as it neared, caught it easily, and in one fluent motion, flipped him off his feet away from her. Scarecrow tripped over the chair at the table and landed with a thud on the floor next to his fallen coat draped over the seat. Sweat poured down his face as he craned his neck up, searching frantically for something to use against the eerily powerful figure. She was starting to remind him uncannily of the Little Bat. it had been a long time since he'd last fought against or with her... and he couldn't remember her ever being anything like this.  
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar long shape leaning against the desk and smiled maliciously. This would change things up a bit. A dark shadow fell over him as he reached for it. Luckily he picked it up and swung upwards just in the nick of time.

The scythe tore through the air and Catwoman backed away from it instinctively. She moved fast, but wasn't quick enough. The very tip of the shining blade slashed across the smooth stomach of her black catsuit. The flesh opened up instantly and her fresh blood started dripping out of her belly and down onto the carpeted floor. The voice uttered a savage laugh of triumph.  
_**  
**__**Aim the next strike into her head,**_ _**don't mess up again!**_

Catwoman grabbed instinctively at her wounded stomach. Hissing furiously in pain, she readied her bullwhip again for another attack, her small teeth bared savagely.

"That was barely a scratch, Little Kitty", Scarecrow rasped as he rose to his feet steadily. He started swinging the weapon again and laughing out maniacally with each strike. "Simply another stitching job for your costume... and one for your body! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! At least they match now!"

Catwoman dodged the next blow completely and she backed away from the desk. Scarecrow raised the scythe again, attempting to bring it down on top of her head. In a flash, she had cartwheeled backwards across the length of the living room from the advancing figure, allowing herself room for the next attack.  
The sharp blade of Scarecrow's scythe impacted against the floor as it missed it's target, and stuck through the carpet and into the woof floor underneath. Angrily he removed it with a tug and raised it in the air again, charging forward.

She raised the bullwhip behind her head and lashed out, just as Crane prepared to bring down the Scythe in her direction again. The whip wrapped around the weapon's handle, and with her superior strength, she pulled, tearing the Scythe from his grip and sending it across the room out of reach.

_**Move Doctor! Stop standing still like a damn fool and get out of the way before she get's you!**_

Using his moment of stunned disbelief, she swung the whip again and it wrapped easily around his thin waist. Scarecrow's eyes bulged underneath the mask and he tried to pull away.

"Come to Kitty!", Catwoman whispered again with an overwhelming blood thirst. Scarecrow tugged at the long cord frantically with both arms, trying to get it off, but couldn't match her superior physical strength. "Your rudeness is hurting my feelings Little Crow!"

She jerked whips handle and he was nearly thrown off his feet a second time as he was pulled towards her. She dropped the whip and swung her legs up hard in a vicious scissor kick. Her heeled feet impacted in his stomach, knocking the air right out of him with sickening disorientation. She used his stunned moment to grab him by the severed, knotted neck noose on his ragged, bloody costume with one hand and tossed him across the room into a nearby wall.

_**She's winning!, **_the rasping voice screeched. Scarecrow could sense the fear in it, as he himself felt. He was the master of fear, however and would never let it interfere with his goal. _**Refocus!**_

Scarecrow breathed hard through his mask as he slammed into it. Dust dropped down from above under the impact and long cracks and chips tore up the wall. Long gloved fingers trembling, Scarecrow reached around behind the neck of his costume and pulled it's raggedy hood down over his head. Having it in place gave him a strange feeling of comfort he couldn't describe. It felt like it almost isolated him away from fear by having a complete costume.

Breathing hard, Gotham's God of Fear formulated his next move in an instant.

He didn't give her time for a follow up strike. He pushed away from the wall quickly towards her, adrenaline coursing throughout his entire thin body as he closed the gap between them. She swung her right claw again to meet him, and although he tried to dodge it, he wasn't quick enough. The clawed hand caught into the forehead of his mask, ripping into it slightly. Scarecrow growled at the spike of pain as the rusty blades cut deeply into his forehead. He could feel the warm droplets of blood starting to trickle down his face, down to his nose and knew he'd have to act quickly before it reached his eyes and gave her another advantage.

Before she could put her full strength into getting the blades digging deeper into him, he grabbed her by the arm and struggled to pry it off his mask. As they grappled together in what looked like a nightmarish dance, a long and gangly leg swung around behind hers instinctively, before she could react.

_**You have her now.**_

With all the strength he could muster, he swung his free right fist into her face twice in quick succession, and her head reeled backward with a gasp. Next he followed it up with an elbow to her gut. Her head quickly snapped forward as she tried to breath and he brought his knee right up into her face, blood now trickling steadily from her nose.

_**Strike her again. And again. And again.**_

"The subject is showing signs of physical trauma", Scarecrow rasped, breathing unsteadily. He followed up the knee strike with a painful right hook across her smooth face. "I have several prescriptions ready for curing such a case".

_**Such as her lovely neck, Doctor.**_

His hands seemed to guide themselves now at the voice's suggestion. They traveled up to her latex covered neck as she recoiled from the impact of the punch, wrapping around it and started to squeeze, as hard as they could. She wheezed and uttered a gag as she struggled, lowering her chin to touch her collar, forcing her neck tight as she fought back. With both of her powerful, sleek arms she reached in between both of the gangly outreached arms and knocked them aside. Before she could make her next attack, however, Scarecrow had leaned forward in a flash of movement, butting her in the face with his masked forehead and uttering a low grunt.

Catwoman fell backwards over the long leg he had placed behind her heel and into the glass coffee table with a lamp set down on it. She tumbled over it and collapsed right through the glass table and onto the ground below, taking the lamp down with her, it's hot bulb shattering. The glowing light of the room faded even further, nearly plunging the apartment into pitch black. The only light now was coming through the windows, courtesy of the glowing streetlights lining the puddle covered sidewalks.

The black figure slowly struggled to rise, managing to drag herself out of the shattered table. Several razor sharp glass shards of varying sizes protruded from the body of her sleek catsuit, and she collapsed, face down in the glass after a moment with a pained breath. Grinning widely, Scarecrow victoriously paced ever closer towards her fallen body.

_**Finish her already! She's unconscious!  
**_

He prepared to bring down his foot on her neck and finish the conflict. She had other plans in mind for Scarecrow, however. Unexpectedly, the 'unconscious' body laying on the floor, rolled over, Scarecrow's foot slamming down on the floor and missed her neck by inches. Catwoman bared her sharp teeth and darted out a long, slender leg. It moved like the same lightning flashing outside the apartment and the strength of it's powerful impact knocked him right off his feet, forcing him to collapse backwards. Horrible pain coursed through his hollow legs and back as he smashed onto the hard floor below, it's thud echoing through the room.

_You clever little-_

A massive, painful cough interrupted his thoughts. One cough turned into another, and before long he couldn't control himself against the wracking torrent of wheezing. All his insides felt aflame with each breath. He attempted to rise again, but there was another, even worse burst of pain as a high heeled boot crashed down on his already maimed chest.

_How does she get up so-?_

Scarecrow's filtered voice howled painfully and grabbed at her long leg desperately, trying to throw it off. Catwoman simply smiled and shook his arm away rather easily. Through his hazy vision, Scarecrow could see her midsection rising and falling. She brought her leg down again, this time on his stomach, causing him to wheeze weakly through the mask, hands clenching on the floor to brace himself. The was a click from the front of her boot as a shiny blade protruded out the tip, hovering close to his throat.

Scarecrow swallowed and clenched his teeth, moving both hands up to her boot again and struggling to throw it aside again.

"You like it rough like me, huh?", Catwoman purred seductively, rolling the R softly with her smooth tongue. With one hand, she started removing the shards of glass from her chest and lower body, brushing some off her leg. Her teeth clenched together as she got them all off, revealing the various deep bloody cuts through the tears in her bodysuit. Even her face had several long cuts on the cheeks and one running down her smooth chin "That's rather interesting..."

Before he knew what was happening, she had removed her foot from his chest, the blade clicked as it snapped back into her boot. She reached down and grabbed him by the front collar of his costume again. This time, however, he felt himself being picked up off the floor in both sharp hands, much to his shock. Recovering quickly, Scarecrow tried to raise his hands out towards her neck and strangle her again...but was too exhausted to raise them high enough. He remained limp as her claws dug ever deeper into either side of his chest, blood squirting out in a stream and rolling down her gloves and upper arms.

Catwoman held the thin figure over her head like a rag doll. He was even lighter then he already looked. It was time to end this, enough was enough. She turned to face her target, the table littered with broken equipment several feet away, and after aiming carefully, she threw Scarecrow with all the might she could muster.

**_Weakling!_**

There was a bizarre moment of free fall that seemed to last forever as Scarecrow tumbled through the air... but was quickly interrupted as his whole body landed on the desktop, knocking off most of the remaining equipment with it sliding down to the floor. He felt the burst of pain as the large recording device shattered underneath his back, destroying his past documented thoughts. The back of his masked and hooded head impacted against the desk, stunning him briefly.

_**Get up and kill her! Now!**_

Black hazy dots seemed to explode before Scarecrow, dancing over his vision wildly. He found himself staring up at the white ceiling, the world spinning sickly around him. Scarecrow was too weak to move yet, his limbs weighing a thousand pounds each. Somewhere off in the distance he could hear the fast patter of heels racing towards him, and tried to rise yet again to fight her off.

Maybe if he could tossed her aside, he could grab the suitcase from under his desk and use his-

There was a bang as something heavy landed on the section of table down by his feet, followed by the table shaking slightly. The rising Scarecrow felt himself fall back down against the table roughly as the weight of something powerful slammed down on his thin waist aggressively, grinding into them with incredible force. Scarecrow blinked behind his mask rapidly, trying to clear the intense haze and think of what to do. He couldn't. His eyes rolled as he struggled to focus.

_I need...-_

"You just don't stay down, do you?", a surprised feminine voice hissed somewhere overhead. "I think this bad boy needs to be taught a lesson in obedience"  
_**  
You're incompetence has gotten us killed doctor!**_, the other rasped venomously inside Scarecrow's racing mind. It was done with him. _**It's over. You're going to die alone. **_

_Wait, don't-**  
**_

The voice slowly faded as Scarecrow felt the force behind it slither back down into the bottom of his mind's corridors. He started to feel drained, empty of the rage, anxiety and thoughts from mere minutes prior as if a cord had been yanked out of his brain. His thoughts began to return to his 'normal' ones as the other vanished, along with a more steady state of mind. It was almost as if he'd slept for years, only to wake up again. His mind grew oddly blank... and relaxed. He was alone again. Exhaustion began to overtake him, and the pain of every single wound was steadily returning.

Scarecrow's shaking shoulders slackened like a deflating balloon.

The outline of a dark figure he couldn't yet make out sat on top of him, looming over and obscuring the ceiling. Scarecrow felt as a pair of legs with a vice-like grip locked around either side of his bony hips, and the slender black figure straddled him. There was another noise as the shape extended a protruding arm and slammed something down on the table, right beside his head. It was a long black cord...a whip.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them again. His vision slowly returned without as much haze, but remained slightly blurry. Crane found himself peering up into the sweat streaked, bloody face of Catwoman. There were several deep cuts of varying sizes on her chin and lips, courtesy of the glass table and himself. He could barely make out the difference between the lipstick that had already been there and the blood now dripping over her mouth. The bright liquid was steadily dripping out of both her small flaring nostrils and falling down to her costume. The high tech pair of glowing red goggles perched atop her head stood out from the blackness like a shining beacon at the end of a tunnel.

She wiped her face off with an arm, reached down with both powerful clawed hands and pulled back the patchy hood of his costume, revealing the grinning mask in it's entirety. Next, the aggressive, determined young woman gripped either side of his mask roughly. The doctor's limp arms reached up and held onto hers, but had no strength left to stop them.

"What are you doing?", Scarecrow rasped painfully, air freeing it's self with a hiss from the filters of his mask. He glared up at her helplessly. "Stop immediately! Get off me at once!"

Catwoman's thin eyebrows narrowed determinedly as she worked with the seals and tiny clamps on the mask's base, just above his tensed neck. She ignored the squirming man beneath her who was nearly powerless against her. Undoing the numerous fastenings, and with a couple hard tugs, she pulled the mask from his head and dropped it down off the side of the table.

As the cold night air from the wide open window struck his exposed already clammy face, Scarecrow's flailing arms lost their grip upon her wrists, slackened and fell back down at his sides again. His body remained moving, trying to get out from under the powerful legs. One of his tattered gloved hands shot up over his face in a poor attempt of hiding it from her.

"That will be quite enough Johnathan", her icy voice stated, tone clipped.

The powerful black body raised up a balled fist impatiently in the air and slammed it back down into the raggedy villain's gut. He stopped squirming in an instant, struggling for the precious air escaping his sore lungs with a heavy gasps. She waited patiently until he had regained control of his breathing, chest rising and falling as he wheezed, one hand still over his face.

"You-

"Now that you're listening to reason, let's see what we have here", Catwoman whispered silkily, her own heavy breathing slowing it's pace ever so slightly. She reached down again to his weak, long fingered hand trying to hide his face and gently removed it, staring down at him. Scarecrow didn't try to put it back up again, transfixed by the unnatural hunger burning in her eyes. "Mmm..."

_What kind of creature is this?_, Scarecrow wondered blankly as she surveyed his revealed features.

The pale, intelligent looking man hiding underneath the Scarecrow face was covered in blood, sweat and breathed hard, looking completely exhausted. His short messy strands of brown hair were damp with perspiration. To her bemused and delightful surprise, he wore a pair of rather old, geeky looking glasses beneath the mask, almost as if they'd come straight from the eighties. For all she knew, maybe they had. The large, square shaped, clear lenses had been slightly cracked in the course their brutal fight. Standing out the most were the five deep claw wounds scratched down his forehead. Droplets of blood ran down a long shaped face that, while not extremely attractive, was certainly not ugly either. The doctor was only in his mid to late thirties from the look of him, but there were the unmistakable marks of premature lines around his face and forehead that showed stress had clearly taken it's toll on him over the years.

There were light flecks of dark stubble protruding from around his mouth and bony, hollowed cheeks. He hadn't had time to clean up in his time out of the asylum, or he simply didn't care. His eyes were a dark brown and rather serious looking around the edges, yet also betrayed a hint of fear for a man of such a well deserved heinous reputation. They were beginning to glaze over, however, as if he was accepting his current helpless predicament, submitting to her. His narrowed eyebrows were relaxing slowly.

She gave him a few moments to calm down, and with the palm of her sleek hand, lay it upon his clawed forehead, wiping some of the blood away but leaving an obvious smudge behind.

Catwoman smiled gloatingly down at Doctor Crane. She removed his cracked glasses, laying them on the table and placed one of her pointy, claw covered hands upon his neck firmly. Her grip tightened slightly around his windpipe, causing his eyes to widen a little.

"I win, Johnathan", She whispered victoriously. Her pencil thin eyebrows narrowing again. "You understand that, don't you?"

Johnathan Crane nodded slowly as he looked up into those hypnotically piercing turquoise eyes. He closed his own shadowy ones tightly, hearing only her excited breathing.

This was it. he was done for. After all this it was finished. He'd always thought that it would be the bat who killed him eventually, yet here was death straddling his lap and about to slash his throat wide open. What a find it'd be for the police when Batman tracked him down: Scarecrow the Supervillian laying murdered on a blood soaked desk in a trashed apartment in a piss poor district of a vermin filled city.

_She'll probably get the key to the city and a standing ovation from the public gallery for ending me. It would be much deserved, _Crane reluctantly had to admit. It wasn't every day a villain's reign was ended, his numerous 'victim's' and test subjects finally being avenged.

For some reason however, the idea of it all ending didn't seem to trouble Crane as much as he'd feared... true it wasn't on his own terms, nor was it the way he had imagined it happening. And yet it was an easier way out of this terrifying nightmare he'd struggled to master his whole life, so maybe that was enough. He couldn't help but feel relaxed, comforted even, that Catwoman would be the one to finish it all as opposed to the Little Bat, who would have probably tortured Crane to death.  
Never mind what the press and citizens said. The truth was, Batman was insane. He was just as crazy as the Joker, Riddler or himself, and probably always had been that way. The only real difference was that he tried to hide it under that cowl and make his insanity look like costumed heroics. Scarecrow had watched him kill henchman before with no objections, yet for a reason Scarecrow couldn't quite place, Batman refused to kill the members of his Rogues Gallery.

Still, in spite of his acceptance, the undeniable fact was this: Crane had failed. He would no longer be able witness the whole of Gotham's descent into nightmares, nightmares that would be brought about by himself. It was rather disappointing, to say the least. The one true goal he'd striven for years to bring about had went up in the air like a puff of smoke.

The doctor felt his drying, thin lips slowly forming into a tired, weak half smile.

"Just do it, Miss Kyle", Crane muttered to her quietly, resignation now filling his somber voice. His eyes remained tightly closed, seeing nothing but the endless abyss of black that was surely awaiting him. "I'm ready... I guess I've been ready for awhile, when it all comes down to it. Get it over with already, won't you?"  
_  
Asking for death... I suppose it has waited patiently enough to claim me, anyways.  
_

A few terrible moments passed like a lifetime. Nothing happened. No movement. No noise. No sudden flash of pain across his throat nor the wet spilling of blood following closely. Was he dead already and didn't know it? Did it really happen that fast? Was it finally over? No, no it couldn't be. He could still feel the pain in his chest, that powerful body sitting on his bony waist, her firm, pointy grip on his neck, the blades sitting against his clammy skin...but-

The slits of the doctor's eyelids slowly peaked open, just in time to watch numbly as a pair of parted lips belonging to a pale face, their red nearly blinding for his dark eyes to behold, collided roughly into his own slackened ones.

* * *

**Not how you were expecting that to end...hm? ;). Don't worry, it's not going to turn into anything fluffy lol xD, I assure you. Thanks again for reading all this, any reviews of my story, advice, ideas, thoughts are as always greatly appreciated :). The next chapter will start explaining things, progressing forward and should be fairly long, getting the plot rolling. It was pretty fun writing that fight, and it plays into one of the comic book elements i started this story for in the first place: there's a kind of mixed sexuality and violence behind the idea of dressing up and running around a city like so many of our comic book hero's and villains do. I don't know, kinda hard to explain. Comics contain the themes of costumed fetishism and role-playing for some of the comic book characters who do it. Just look at Batman for instance: the guy scores with all kinds of women, including enemies, while dressed up as a bat, and enjoys it. Hell, who wouldn't?**

**Here's a couple reference's I used in the story from non-Batman movies I like ;):  
**

"I hope that was as good for you as it was for me"- **Reservoir Dogs, couldn't help throwing that in xD.**

"Her lovely throat" **-Nosferatu, greatest vampire movie ever.**

**Anyways, the next chapter will be out sometime after Christmas. Thanks again to everyone for the support through this story:) and Merry Christmas! Good will toward men...and women ;).  
**


	4. Chapter 4: Revelations

**No Name**: **Thank you again for another long review :D you needn't worry about how long you make it, I enjoy getting them and answering them. It allows me a chance to get in deeper, explaining certain things. For starters, i do understand that most of the Scarecrow community isn't exactly drawn to my type of story xD. I was scanning over the Scarecrow stories I have to compete with, and the majority of them are fluffy type stories that draw bunches of people and 80+ reviews, whereas my attempt at a gritty story isn't quite as popular. It's not that im going for massive popularity, but I do find it a bit of a shame that people today with stories and fanfiction want everything to be happy and perfect for their characters, Mary sue type things, rather then a story full of themes and ideas. It kind of makes me feel isolated from mainstream fan-fiction...but I'm not discouraged, I'm attempting to do something that hasn't been done before. This isn't so much mainly a pairing story, as I'm including other stuff to keep it from getting so repetitive. Perhaps I can draw in people to open their minds to ideas like mine. At least I can say I'm doing it how I see it without compromising anything. I'm glad you liked this chapter, even though you aren't big on action, fighting. I myself don't write stories to be mainly action, but action is often the result of plot development and ideas, and are quite necessary at times. I don't wish to write my action parts as bland, I want them to reflect the type of person I'm writing about, in this case, a psychopathic supervillain. I want to show what he's like in such a situation as the action is happening. Psychology wise with Crane, I figured that based on some of the things I've seen of him, IE: "There is no Crane: only Scarecrow!" "Crane isn't in right now!", etc etc, I decided that him having another entity inside his head, The Scarecrow, would be the best in regards to him story wise, adding that inner torment for such a tragic, twisted man. I read up also how he has anxiety disorders, yet this doesn't seem to be show much when he's Scarecrow, only when he's Crane. Those are part of the reasons I thought there were two people sort of in there, Scarecrow fueling and encouraging his inability to give up, his drive, instability, etc, Whereas Crane seemed to supply the knowledge, as well as being the anxious, isolated genius and whatnot. I will further explore this type of psychology over the course of the story, I hope it will prove entertaining. As for Catwoman and her knowledge of Crane's past, part of it will be explained in this chapter, and will be fully explained by the end, I promise. I also want you to know that Scarecrow will indeed be the main character of this story, and mainly centered on him in regards to what's happening around him. That isn't to say Catwoman won't play a major role, she will, but it will be a sort of...outside influence over him, rather then being in person for the whole story. I can't spoil it all, I hope you'll like what I do :). The plot is now getting rolling :). I'm glad you see my view on the whole fetishism theme to comics, I wanted to be clear about my thoughts on it. It does indeed happen in most comics, but Batman is the one that strikes me the most with it lol. Thanks again for your review and I hope you enjoy the chapter!.**

**Athulus: Thank you :) I'm glad you enjoyed it. Merry Xmas to you too :).**

**Acacia24: Thank you it means a lot that you liked it, and thank you even more for the favorite! I'm happy that it merits as worth that. I decided on the "Little Crow" nickname she gives him due to not only it sounding like something she would say, but the Arkham Asylum game xD. I simply loved hearing Crane refer to Batman in the nightmare sequences as "Little Bat", it gave this huge amount of menacing to Scarecrow, looking down on the normally powerful Batman trapped in his realm. I didn't make Catwoman cry or complain over being hurt, because such a thing is a huge disservice to such a tough, dominating type of woman. Just look at Batman Returns and Year One for instance, She's tough as hell and isn't about to back down when she's devoted to doing something. Thanks again for the review!**

**I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, and are ready to get back into the thick of things xD. The plot will now start to get rolling, I had to establish these things first, along with what I'll set up in this chapter. So, here you go again my friends :D:**

* * *

His thin lips were roughly seized, with a burning, ferocious intensity. At the same time he could see just past those strong lips, right into her half lidded hungry eyes. Crane could feel her smooth wet tongue dart out of her mouth, sliding over-top his teeth, meeting and beginning to dominate his own shocked one, deepening the passionate kiss.

Crane's normally dark, serious eyes nearly bulged right out of his head at the warm feeling. He moved his hands up to her lurching shoulders for a moment, making an attempt to shove her powerful body off of his gangly one... but couldn't quite draw the strength. His attempt to move her was only half hearted at best. Even if he'd had his full strength, he probably couldn't have done anything about it...and he was steadily not wanting to do anything to stop her.

Before he could fully process this unexpected act, he found his inexperienced but encouraged mouth was slowly returning her intensity, their tongues danced together and her teeth clashed against his roughly.

_Wha..._

Crane, heavily weakened from the fight, coupled with an obvious lack of experience, couldn't do much in the way of leading them. However, Catwoman who had always preferred being the one in charge had no problem with that. She purred softly, breaking off the kiss. Crane heard himself let out a low gasp as she reached a claw covered hand down to the severed noose around his neck, jerking his head upwards closer to her own.

The rough act excited and surprised the raggedy costumed man. This particular playful form aggression was much different from the murderous kind he felt so frequently. Once again he felt the stirring in his abdomen, beneath his buckled, thin pants, but no longer had to try hiding it.

"You were ready for what? A deadly kiss?", Catwoman inquired mischievously, lowering her shapely body down more upon him. Crane could feel the poking of her large, curvy breasts pressing tightly against his bony chest, the racing thudding of her heart matched his own in a rhythmical symbiosis. Her dark latex mask covered forehead nuzzled softly against his bare one in a happy cuddling gesture. She leaned her mouth forward again and playfully licked at both Crane's stubble covered chin and up to his shocked lips.

"I think I've given you enough wounds for today... well, fighting wounds anyways. There's always the more enjoyable kind you know".

Catwoman moved her hands away from his throat and wrapped her arms around his back, locking into place. Her claws slowly traced down the length of it, leaving ten more bloody claw wounds. Despite the stinging, the doctor couldn't find it in himself to ask her to retract them back into her gloves. There was a peculiar pleasure that came with this particular pain.  
Crane had seen scum around the city who enjoyed being hurt. He'd never given them much of a passing thought...but if was what they had meant, perhaps they were onto something he hadn't realized.

She grabbed at his noose again, pulling him even closer towards her with a fierce, dominating strength. Catwoman smirked wryly as she gripped the noose even tighter.

"Ever consider getting rid of this old thing?", She asked quietly, nuzzling the tip of her bloodstained nose against his own. "I bet it imposes more disadvantages then advantages with people grabbing at it all the time".

"It's no different then 'hero's' wearing capes", Crane wheezed with a dark smirk of his own. "Though, at least mine is less... likely to get stuck in a revolving door".

This earned a softly appreciative laugh, much to his personal delight.

He found his shaky, unsteady hands were now moving on their own will will, just like when he tried to strangle her...yet, it wasn't the other helping to guide it. The Scarecrow's voice was completely gone, and it was all Crane now. The long fingered hands crept slowly up her powerful latex covered legs, taking the time to feel them. They moved up around either side of her strong hips, tracing over the white stitching all over the suit. He stopped together down on her curvy, well toned bottom, cupping it with both long hands. Catwoman tightened her grip on him at this action and breathed inwards deeply. She shimmied her bottom up his thin body, a little closer to his chest, locking her legs down around his waist.

Crane's eyes bulged widely again, this time feeling a terribly burning need for release. A longing... something he hadn't felt in years now, almost having forgotten it had existed.

As their kiss deepened further, his hands continued to roam again, slowly up towards the front of her chest. They gently settled over her tight, latex covered chest. He began feeling them cautiously, which illicited a soft moan from Catwoman's bright lips. Reassured, he kept right on going.  
After a couple moments, they continued upwards and eventually came to a stop. They stumbled upon the catsuits small front zipper hiding under her cat collar at the neck of her costume. He breathed hard, mind completely numbed with confusion and doubt. It had been a very long time since Crane had last done anything like that... and he had barely any experience. He was prepared to attempt it again, however, if it was necessary anyway.

Catwoman suddenly took his roaming hands into her own gently, moving them away from the zipper and back down to her smooth bottom. She spoke between aggressive kisses.

"Not yet, Mister Scarecrow", Catwoman whispered breathlessly in his ear. "You're going to have to wait until another time for that... but trust me, just stay patient and you'll see".

_Terrific job, _Crane scolded himself, his warm face twisting into a dark mask of shameful self loathing. He barely heard her last sentence in his self disgust. _You did something wrong. She's undoubtedly creeped out by you now. Look at you! This is why you don't get out!  
_

Crane felt his already boiling face flush with shame, twitching slightly at his own over-eagerness. He cursed himself anxiously for allowing himself to descend down to such a level of primitive behavior, reminding himself he was better then this. He was a scientist. The raggedy man opened his mouth to utter an embarrassed half witted apology, the anxiety becoming unbearable but before he could form the words together, she had cut them off with another fiercely passionate kiss, much to his warm relief.

"You think too much, Johnathan".

That was all it took, instantly dissolving his self doubt like acid. She had sensed his frightened thoughts based on his face and had solved the worry. The doctor's hands squeezed on her and he closed his eyes half way, consumed by the overwhelming pleasure and delight he wasn't used to.

"Shhh", Catwoman growled fiercely, now nibbling at his earlobe. She nuzzled the side of his warm, sweat streaked head as she did so. "Don't".

He obeyed the forceful command instantly. Crane had not taken orders for some time, and had never really enjoyed doing so. Yet she had a strength to her he hadn't seen in anyone before over the years. There was a kind of take charge quality to her personality that he found himself respecting, being drawn to as his skinny arm held onto her tightly.

"Curious. You're something of a tease", Crane whispered back, his eyes rolling back. "Aren't you, Little Kitty?"

"Teasing is a good thing, Little Crow. It'll leave you wanting more"

"That...and having a rather severe case of blue- uh...Epidymymal Hyper-

Those frighteningly powerful, blood stained lips moved over-top his own, causing him to fall silent once more. She grinned triumphantly at the raggedy villain in a way that reminded Crane bemusedly, randomly, of the Cheshire Cat. Jervis had insisted he read it.

"Shut up Crane", She growled again, moving her mouth down to his thin neck. Catwoman started biting down gently, running her smooth, wet tongue across it every so often. A split moment later, her lips returned back up to his own and one of her sleek, gloved hands ran down his thin side, moving over his waist. Minding the claws, she boldly, yet carefully grabbed at his stiff groin, causing Crane to utter a shocked gasp that reverberated inside Catwoman's powerful mouth.

"And take it"

After several minutes of their tight embrace on the table, Catwoman slowly broke the kiss, breathing excitedly. Regaining control, she took another deep, satisfied inhale and stared down into Crane's feverish, stunned expression. It was a huge contrast to the cold clamminess that had filled it mere minutes ago. A pleased expression appeared upon her ghostly white face as she noticed how bruised and stained with smudged lipstick and blood she'd left his lips.

Crane breathed hard, his heart racing against his chest. He had been completely taken by the suddenness of the rough, yet affectionate act, the surprise. Finally, he found his lost voice again.

"I thought... well, that you were going to slash the rest of me to pieces", Crane whispered quietly. His grip around her back tightened a little. "Young woman...why did you do that? I don't understand this at all...I'm the worlds best scientist with psychology and fear... but this... I just don't get it."

Catwoman smiled, her hands moving up to either side of his head. There were several clicks and snaps as she retracted the razor sharp claws back into the glove's fingertips.

"Maybe you're like catnip to a woman like me. Perhaps I like insane living Scarecrow's more then crazy flying rat's. Maybe I find you sexy, drawn to your type. Who knows?", Catwoman informed him softly. "It could be any, none or all of those reasons. I will tell you one thing though... I love a good, blood inducing fight. You just gave me a hell of an exciting one... despite how weak you are, your obvious disadvantages compared to me."

Crane let the casual insult slide, not caring in the slightest. Especially not now...after this.

"So why choose me though?", Crane muttered confusedly. "You could just as easily find one of the other Villains more experienced with...uh...that is to say, more used to-

"You don't give up trying to be who you want to be in a city like this with so many other Villains to compete with and the police always out for your head.", Catwoman interrupted, a glint shining in her eyes.

Crane simply listened in incredulous, mute surprise at her calm explanation.

"You don't give up trying to spread fear whenever you get caught. You live in the shadow of The Joker as Gotham's most evil, but you're so much more then him. You want there to be fear, yet you aren't an ambitious freak like some of the others are. You don't have massive gangs and underworlds obeying your word, you only have a few brainless thugs at your command. Even then that's pretty rare. Most of the time you choose to simply be alone, operate alone...isolation. Your ambition's lie solely with your chaotic interest in spreading terror, getting vengeance. You want to wreck, not run Gotham. Ambitious men who seek to control all of us are predictable, easily manipulated and let it all go to their heads... I don't like overly ambitious men. There's also a real, legitimate reason you do these insane things... you're a broken soul, like me, trying to find your own way through this city whatever it takes. Look at everything it's cost you in the process. Your sanity... most of your sociality with others. When the police lock you up in Arkham, you don't let them win. You, a fussy man in a shabby old outfit who weighs about as much as a twig, prove to be a constant challenge and pain in the side to the Dark Knight himself."

Crane felt his face growing oddly warm with embarrassment at hearing this wave of unusual praise. It felt rather odd to hear of how he was viewed by someone who didn't despise and fear him, as most undoubtedly did. He glanced away from her piercing eyes for a second, then back up to meet her. She wore a satisfied smile upon her blood stained lips.

"Though...", Catwoman added as a wry afterthought. "I certainly did kick your ass...didn't I?"

She started to giggle delightedly at this, the same beautiful laugh that floated throughout the apartment. For a few moments, Crane simply watched her laugh, mind empty. Suddenly he felt his own lips quivering, and before he knew it he had joined her, throwing his head back and laughing in his hysterically maniacal manner. Despite the pain it made ripple throughout his skinny, runty stomach, he couldn't help it. How could he possibly?  
They laughed together for at least a minute, the pure insanity of the fight prior, now the most hilarious thing Crane could imagine. A shabbily dressed, scrawny Scarecrow getting tossed on his ass around a crummy little apartment building. By a powerful young woman dressed like a dominatrix themed black cat using a whip, no less.

Slowly Crane regained control over his laughter, and they stopped as one, breathing heavily. He glanced down at her stomach only a few centimeters from his own. There were several deep cuts in it from the glass the had fell , but it was the long wound he'd inflicted with his scythe that stood out the most. It had slashed right across the catsuit zipper's teeth line above her belly button. It was caked in slowly drying blood that oozed on the ripped skin beneath the torn latex. He placed a single gloved hand over it gently and Catwoman hissed inwards slightly.

"Sorry", Johnathan murmured quietly, moving his fingertips to the edge of the slash. "That could have killed you if you didn't move in time".

Crane felt an uncomfortable shift down in his already pained stomach. Unfamiliar, alien knots of regret. He was apologizing for an attempted murder? Why?...How many people had he murdered up to this moment? This had to be the first time he felt at least slightly glad he hadn't succeeded.

"I know", Catwoman replied smoothly, placing a hand of her own over top his on the wound. She squeezed his hand slightly. "That's what made it so exciting... the risk of death. Don't apologize. You've left your mark on me with this scar... just like I left about twenty of them all over you." She smirked playfully and motioned down at his heavily torn costume.

Johnathan smiled lightly, but stopped quickly, his eyes narrowing. He suddenly became aware that something hard, sharp and uncomfortable on the table was pressing painfully into his lower back. The man reached underneath himself with the hand not being held by her and grabbed at whatever it was.

Catwoman laughed again as Johnathan pulled the large shattered parts of his voice recording device and dumped them off the table. The two cassettes fell out of the device, spilling black strands of tape out the sides as it landed on the floor, cracking them further. He settled back down underneath her again and took a breath, steadying breath.

"You destroyed my work". Johnathan muttered, resuming his eye contact with her. "It means so much to me and will take countless time to recover...but you know what? I don't really care right now...and I don't know why. I put a lot of time into all of it too. I just don't know the answer".

But Catwoman did, and informed him of such.

"You don't care, because you've unwinded, Johnathan. You've seen what it's like. You don't need to be so serious and trapped inside your undoubtedly suffocating mind all the time", she replied smoothly. "Now you know how it feels to overcome and escape that particular prison. There's so much more fun with all this chaos that you've been missing out on"

Johnathan swallowed, considering her oddly insightful words.

"Perhaps...", he admitted finally. "Maybe you are indeed onto something"

"Maybe?", Catwoman asked with a wry smile. "Trust me. I know what I'm talking about.

A long comfortable silence filled the trashed apartment at these words, and together they shared it. It would have been quite a sight for anyone who could see it. The slender full suited woman straddling the injured man in a tattered costume underneath her, their gloved hands intertwined together tightly.  
The only sound came from the rain and thunder roaring outside, but it didn't seem to exist to them. They had their own world right there, and Gotham city certainly wasn't apart of it right then. After a couple minutes, the doctor decided to interrupt it with a question that troubled him very greatly. He wasn't even really sure he wanted to hear the answer at this point.

"How did you... how did you know? About...-

"Your old nickname?", Catwoman asked, without hesitation. her piercing eyes held his own once again. It wasn't a dominating look, however...there was a kind of warmth and concern to their intensity. "Ichabod?".

Johnathan nodded slowly. What did she know? How far back into his dirty past had she dug?

"I haven't been addressed by that 'name', in many years", He answered quietly.

"Because I know quite a bit about you Johnathan", She replied slowly. "More then you think I do, anyways."

"Such as?"

"Well, I read one of Batman's earlier file's on you", Catwoman explained softly. "On the Bat-computer, back when we were still involved together. You were in Arkham at that point and he had some of the information from your doctors. I had read up on some of Gotham's villains, and you interested me the most. I learned you had quite a difficult childhood and time growing up...like I did. I decided to learn more... I was interested. So I studied all relevant information available on your high school years".

The doctor said nothing, simply listening calmly. He'd talk when she got to it.

"There was a lot of grim information.", She continued. "Especially when I found out about how you were raised, your living conditions at the time. You were abandoned by your own father, neglected by your mother and mistreated by your psychotic great grandmother. Not to mention all the terror your peers caused you on a daily basis. It was so obvious you would turn out to be what you are now after suffering all that. You were twisted into the life you now lead and the way you think. You couldn't do anything else but be a villain, because you couldn't let go of what happened."

Crane cleared his dry throat. He felt himself becoming brave enough to confide his personal feelings on the subject in her. She could understand how it was. A fellow masked freak that this wretched city had birthed without a second thought.

"There's no going back for me", he told her truthfully. "I am what I am now... and I'm going with it. There must be fear in Gotham... fear as I have been forced to experience. All must see the edge of the abyss it if I had to...I will win in the end, and have my revenge".

Catwoman maintained her steady gaze upon him. She spoke in a slow, strange tone that Crane couldn't quite place.

"I respect that, you know. You choose to remain 'evil', rather then go along with everyone else's ways, rather the compromising who you are. Insanity or death are the only real options in this city, and you were tough enough to handle the former."

Crane nodded. That was exactly his thoughts, as far as choice went around Gotham City.

"At the end of my investigation, I managed to find and interrogate one of your old classmates still living in Gotham, and learned more. That's when I found out about the nickname.. Batman isn't the only good detective in this city, you know. You learn quite a few skills over time...of course, thievery helps that out quite a bit"

A torrent of thoughts came to the doctors mind. If she knew about his childhood nickname, then she could just as easily know about the main event of the past to him. The one that squeezed the trigger for what he became.

"So I see", Crane replied slowly. "What else did you find out about me?"

A strangely indeterminable expression rose to Catwoman's face, and she replied smoothly.

"I know that you murdered for the first time in high school, on the night of your prom. A girl that you loved, Sherry Squires. You did it because she rejected the lanky little scarecrow and went off with one of your worst bullies...Bo Griggs."

Crane's eyes narrowed upon hearing the last name, but held his tongue.

"You ambushed their car as they drove, with a gun. It caused them to have an accident when they drove off the road and crashed into a tree. Your bully was paralyzed from the waist down upon impact, surviving, but the girl was killed instantly."

Catwoman paused but the doctor continued to say nothing.

"Batman found out about that one through information gathering in past news articles. Grigg's claimed that someone dressed up in a shabby, straw filled costume and mask had done it, during an interview back then that got published. Batman put it all together in no time... I assume he was right?"

Crane stared back at her for a couple seconds, then inclined his head, impressed. They had certainly done their homework.

"Of course he was. Frightening them that night was where I first discovered the delicious delight of scaring people to death. It's a night I've never and will never forget, no matter what else happened afterward", He replied expressionlessly. "I felt strong for the first time in my life. I wasn't on the receiving end of fear, others were, and I was the cause. The reason...the reason. The power behind such a simple everyday and overlooked thing...fear. Fear is everything, determines everything, and always will be"

He breathed deeply at the mere thought of his favorite subject of the mind. Catwoman watched him intently.

"I also traced your family, and discovered that your frequently abusive great grandmother was found pecked to death by birds around the time you were nearing the end of high school", Catwoman continued. "The police were baffled and couldn't find out how it happened. Batman was sure that your excessive studying of chemicals was involved, that you set them on her."

He smiled coldly, with no shame or regrets at all in his long, sallow face. He was glad to have done what he did. His dark eyes narrowed seriously.

"Tell me...did you or the Little Bat find out exactly what she was doing to me?", Crane asked bitterly. "All through my childhood?"

Catwoman shook her masked head slowly.

"No, a lot of the details and information were obscured, and some were missing completely. There just weren't many solid facts", She replied. Her deep turquoise eyes filled with curiosity. "We could only speculate at that time...what did happen?"

The doctor swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

"Well", he muttered grimly, his eyes taking a far off look. It was almost as if he'd gone to another realm of reality Catwoman couldn't comprehend. It was someone else speaking, that much she knew. The scared little kid he no longer was. His voice remained in a sort of somber, deadpan tone.

"She simply got exactly what was coming to her her whole life. Have you ever spent every already disgusting day after school, forced into a chemical covered suit and locked in a dilapidated, abandoned old church? The swarms of crows nesting there... attracted by the chemical's scent, flocking around you hungrily, pecking your skin raw and bloody as you banged on the door screaming and crying, desperately trying to get out? Trying and constantly failing with your frail body as a witch cackled from outside?"

Catwoman's normally piercing eyes widened slightly. She had known he was abused... but not like that. She hadn't even imagined such a terrible way. It made sense now. Her ghostly pale face grew sympathetic as she listened intently.

"I remember her twisted little wrinkled face after each time she'd eventually let me out... upon which, of course, she'd drag me back to the house, dictate me passages from that book of lies and lock me in my bedroom bloody and hungry. However, I especially delight in remembering the last time I ever saw her face, what it looked like after I turned her own work around on her, through my studies. The birds were very through, more so then I had thought they would be. I think they simply enjoyed my vastly superior chemical's more then they had her obsolete one's".

Taking a low breath, he focused sharply back to the latex covered young woman as he returned to the present. The dark, seriously set eyes loosened momentarily.

"I've had quite a few bad days in my early life, Miss Kyle", He muttered quietly. "To say the very least".

Catwoman shook her head slightly and placed a hand down to his stubbled cheek, stroking his thin lips carefully. Now she had all the facts, her thoughts about him were confirmed.

"Christ... that's horrible. You don't need to get defensive on the subject though, Johnathan.", she informed him assuredly. "I agree with your reasons for what you do. It's the only way you really know how to react to what's against you".

Crane's dark eyes blinked with surprise.

"I don't get that often, Miss Kyle", he admitted quietly. "Someone agreeing with me, I mean."

"Well, you don't typically talk about this stuff, do you?"

"No... I've only ever told everything to you, and Harley. Her care was quite understandable of course, we've known each other well for years, since we were already...uh, close, back at the university. But you, I mean... what is your angle in all this young lady? Why would my past interest you so?"

Catwoman's slash covered, bright lips smiled into his slightly apprehensive eyes. It was an honest, warm, glowing smile, with no sign of deceit laying behind it. At least, that's how it appeared in the doctor's best opinion.

"There is no angle Johnathan", She replied softly, pausing and glancing over to the open window for a moment. Catwoman peered off at the dark buildings stretching out into the distance of Gotham City before turning her focus back to him. "Let's just say you aren't the only person who's had a bad day in their life. I had a bad day too, once".

They both fell silent again, apart from their combined, labored breathing. There was a flash of bright lightning outside that lit up both the shapes on the table of the dark room. It was followed soon after by the deafening echo of thunder growing closer. After it passed, Crane broke the silence, looking back up to her.

"You're better then me at investigation work, anyways. You were right... there's a lot I don't know about you. Just your name and the fact that you're completely out of your mind", the doctor replied with a slight smirk. "Though, half the occupants of this disgusting city are quite the same, myself included."

"Mmm. Touche", Catwoman purred back at the thin wounded man. "You still have a lot to learn about me though. I sincerely hope you'll be able to handle it all when you do"

Crane's dark eyes narrowed slightly.

"What do you mean?", he asked curiously, interest piqued. "Handle what?"

But Catwoman didn't answer his question, not then anyways. Instead she shook her head wordlessly and picked up the whip off the table. She slowly draped it around the length of her mid section, tying it securely around her waist. Next she lowered her upper body down upon Crane gently, snuggled up closer to him, wrapped an arm around his scrawny body and rested the side of her face against his shoulder. The young woman put extra care in avoiding the wound running down it. Crane moved his face slightly, looking sideways into her piercing eyes. She gently placed her free hand against his face, stroking it steadily.

"You look tired, Doctor", Catwoman whispered, her own eyes half closed and sleepy. "Want to take me to the bed?"

He certainly felt tired. He hadn't gotten any rest in the past exhausting day. He'd simply been too busy and excited with the experiments. It was coming back to haunt him, his eyelids were feeling heavier and heavier as she stroked his face. In spite of the prospect of his ruined equipment and the fact he'd have to start all over again, he felt relaxed and confident. It had been the most interesting day he'd had in...well, as far as he could remember. What did she mean though?...what-

"I do...but I don't think I have the energy...to get up and walk to the bedroom", Crane wheezed through his sore stomach and half closed eyes. His stomach was undoubtedly in for a lot of serious bruising.

"No, I didn't think think you would", Catwoman laughed softly into his painful, throbbing shoulder. "The table works well enough anyways".

"Quite so"

"Besides which...it might threaten your masculinity, for me to carry you on down there myself"

Now it was his turn to chuckle tiredly.

Acting on instinct, Johnathan Crane tiredly looped one of his long thin arms around her body. His hand held onto the back of one of hers that was sitting on her hip again. His fingers moved on their own, gently rubbing the back of her gloved hand. Exhaustion was now slowly consuming his body as he shifted, comfortably resting his head atop hers. The pain in his chest was fading fast, and within a matter of seconds, he had drifted off into an unusually peaceful, deep dreamless sleep.

"Sleep tight, Little Crow", her sensual voice whispered, chasing after his relaxed mind down it's corridors. It was the last thing Johnathan heard.

It hadn't been that way in many years. He almost forgot what it was like not to be woken up screaming by his own twisted memories and dreams. It was new...a work in progress.

* * *

About three hours later in the very early morning, the dark, stormy clouds still hung in the lightning flashing sky's over Gotham City. An icy gust of wind, cold as ever, breezed through the district, entering the apartment's still rain soaked windows. It was still slightly dark out, and the rain had not quite let up yet. The cold drafts of air blew the curtains aside from the window and roused the ragged, bloody figure laying with it's back flat on the long, uncomfortable table.

Crane shivered and opened his eyes slowly, finding himself now laying completely alone on the uncomfortable table top. His eyes lowered slightly at this discovery. His vision was a little fuzzy, from his lack of glasses, which lay at his side. An eerie silence was present. Catwoman had left the apartment at some point as he slept, that much he knew out of the corner of his foggy, confused mind. There was probably a good reason she'd had to go.

As he blinked his heavy eyelids to wake up better, a ripple of soreness and stinging cut through his mid section, sweaty forehead, back and shoulder followed by stifling pain. He gritted his teeth and glanced down at his wounded body, holding himself back from uttering a hiss.

He was going to need a lot of stitches from the looks of the vicious exposed wounds. The flesh was torn open pretty badly, dry blood around each wound. Thankfully it had healed slightly while he slept. His shoulder had been ripped badly by her claws, and was much worse off then his forehead, at least based on how he felt, yet he could move it easier then he'd been able to last night. Huge ugly purple bruises had occurred over night, concentrated mainly on his stomach. The back of his costume was nearly shredded apart, there were long tears running through it with ten deep claw wounds.

A bit of good news, however, was that none of the wounds were too severe. He had seen much worse over the course of his lengthy career. Nevertheless, he knew it wasn't too great. His memories were coming back now, pushing their way through the confusion.

_I'm going to have a lot more scar tissue then I already had by the time this is done, _Crane thought to himself wearily, but couldn't help smirking faintly. He felt foolish for smiling at his own suffering. _I can't believe I feel...positive, about that. It was exciting as hell...that was as thrilling or more so then spraying this city's children with heavy doses of extra potent fear toxin!  
_  
The doctor relished that thought for a moment, then glanced around the trashed room. Catwoman had gone back out the window at some point last night, the window was still ajar with the curtains blowing in the wind. He lay his head back down on the desk again and sighed.  
_  
If it weren't for these slashes all over me, I'd think that was all a strange hallucination,_ Crane thought wryly as he stared up at the ceiling, lost in his own mind. _I should probably head over to Jokers old carnival hideout with the few samples I got finished... see if he's holed up there. That clown will laugh his ass off at the sight of me, but I need to do it. After I get some money... then I can worry about getting fixed up, where to go, and what I'm going to do about...her. _  
_  
_Ignoring the pain, he sat up carefully with a smile now touching his thin lips.

_She was much too vague on details... on purpose I'm sure. I'll have to look for her later, and find out whatever she could have meant by my 'having a lot to learn'._

He didn't have any idea where in the city she could be, and it'd probably take a long time to figure such a thing out. Nevertheless, he felt his own determination. There was inspiration to find her, a reason, and that would be all he needed._  
_

Doctor Crane lowered his legs off the table, stood upright slowly and started for the bathroom to clean up his body before setting out. As he stepped forward he felt a chilling tug on his right wrist and couldn't move any further. Crane's eyes widened in horror as he whirled around, spotting what it was preventing him from going. His heart plummeted slowly all the way to the bottom of his flat soled shoes.

"You... lying little...", Crane groaned, the terribly familiar agony of betrayal taking over. "What in the hell did you do that for?"

A pair of cold steel handcuffs were locked on his right hand and attached to a locked drawer on the table. Crane frantically gave his chained hand a few tugs, but the drawer remained stiff shut and the heavy table barely even shifted. They were a good quality handcuff too, old fashioned and reliable.

_After all that...you..._

Somewhere off in the distance, it came. The horribly familiar noise he was accustomed to for much of his life. The one that, when heard, changed everything and wiped his thoughts clean, forcing him into his primal state of self survival. He had known he'd hear it soon. But not this early, and not certainly not under these circumstances.

_No._

The whine of police sirens pierced through the rainy sky's, echoing off and through the thin walls of the apartment like a terrifying melody. The frightening screech of tires on the pavement was getting ever closer. Within seconds, a convoy of police cars followed by a pair of massive SWAT vans had made it to the apartment, coming to a lurching stop in the crowded parking lot at the front of the building.

* * *

**Well now ;), I hope that was interesting for you. I'd like to note quickly, however, that you might be wondering why Catwoman and Crane didn't...uh, get busy right then and there, they were certainly ready for it. To me, I believe that sex isn't something that should be tossed right right in the forefront of a story, it's the kind of thing that needs to be led up to effectively, not used casually, if any at all. My reasons for this will be explained in the story by the end, trust me :). I put that falling asleep peacefully on the table thing, because I wanted to give Crane a bit of deserved comfort, being held by Catwoman, but also wanted to add a touch of irony to it, in that he just got the straw knocked out of him, and tables aren't generally the most comfortable thing to sleep on ;).  
**

** There's still a lot Catwoman hasn't told him in this chapter, about both herself and her role in everything. I hope I've captured some of his inner workings and childhood well, the horror he had to experience. I read up on it to do this chapter, and was pretty disgusted how much he had to endure. Although he did a lot of terrible things, it's no wonder he went insane. I needed Catwoman to open him up to talking about that, nudging him a bit, because he doesn't strike me as the kind of man who can talk about it on his own, it seemed to me that a strong woman would be able to open him up, what with his anxiety. Strength would be something he respects. I had to sort of push aside Scarecrow for this one, and show Crane.**

** I'm trying to show how villains would view Gotham City as well. Although someone like Batman believes the city can be saved, many of it's villains undoubtedly recognize they're stuck in an insane deathtrap they can't seem to (or don't want to) get out of.  
**

** Catwoman won't have as many physical appearances from this point forward, (I'm very sorry, that's just the way the story goes) but she will still play a major role, things involving her centered on Crane. She'll play a huge role in his state of mind. So, now Crane...or is it Scarecrow? ;), will be in for hell...let's see how far he can wade through it. What are the reasons behind her betrayal? You'll have to wait and see :). Until next time, thanks again for reading! :) any reviews, thoughts, opinions on the story are, as always, appreciated!**

**"I had a bad day too, once" -Comes from Batman: The Killing Joke , of course :).  
**


	5. Chapter 5: Anxiety Before the Storm

**And no reviews for my previous chapter lol...something of a disappointment, given all the effort i put into making it the best I could, showing Crane without the Scarecrow. However, it is the holidays so I understand. It encourages me to get a review when I'm editing my chapters, but I also have a vision and won't be swayed off by lack of reviews.**

** Now, I've written a spin-off for this story about Batman and...;) you'll see. It will be set during the events of this story. I'm waiting for the right time to post it, and I recommend reading it if you like this story, as it will build onto this story universe, what else is going on at the time. So, here's the next chapter, shorter, but necessary to show the prelude :) :**

* * *

A swarm of noise like an angry bee hive washed over Crane's ears as the police outside shouted frantic orders and car doors slammed, accompanied by the patter of boots running around on the pavement. They were forming a perimeter in the parking lot.

Thoughts thirsty for vengeance fought amongst themselves inside the Doctors mind. Some screamed wildly for Catwoman's blood. Others cursed him out furiously for having trusted her at all, especially for confiding in her about his past. Why had he done it? He barely had known her! Hadn't his life experiences in Gotham taught him anything about trusting randomly?

The voice that had been hiding previously, slithered back to the front of his thoughts, muddying everything. With it, it brought terrible doses of disgust and rage to Crane's boiling mind.

_**She sold you out doctor, **_the voice rasped with icy cold amusement. **_H_****_ow can that possibly surprise you? _**

_Now you come back?, _Crane asked it angrily._ You're a great help sometimes._

_**It was bound to happen again**, the voice hissed, ignoring Crane. **Betrayal, that is. It was rather funny watching you bare your heart to her like that.  
**_

_She...she kissed me though. How could I-  
_

The voice uttered a dark laugh that made Crane shiver more then the icy draft was causing.

_**And pathetic. We shall discuss this later.**_

A shot of pain went through his head at the laughter, forcing his free hand to shoot up to his painful forehead. The claw wounds there had grown sticky while he slept being caked in a later drying blood. Through sheer and almost superhuman willpower, he held back a scream of rage and bitterness that was threatening to escape his lungs. The police would be breaking in here in no time and he'd be going right back to Arkham when they did. He didn't know what to do anymore.

**_Yes you do doctor, _**the other contradicted him.**_ Think about it for a moment, won't you? Is a simple handcuff going to stop you after everything you've done in your life? Really?_**

Crane could sense the undeniable logic in the voice.**  
**

There were sounds through the window of Gotham citizens yelling and objecting as they were forced to stand behind the hastily assembled police perimeter and vehicles in the parking lot by a group of serious faced officers.  
A bullhorn blasted off from outside right to Cranes apartment over the sirens. The apartment was filled with the sound of an irritatingly familiar man's voice, though it was oddly muffled.

_I suppose you raise a good point._

**"DOCTOR CRANE!"**, Commissioner Jim Gordon's voice shouted. **"THIS IS COMMISSIONER GORDON OF THE GOTHAM CITY POLICE! WE HAVE THE ENTIRE APARTMENT COMPLEX SURROUNDED AND WE KNOW THAT YOU'RE IN THERE! COME OUT NOW TO THE MAIN LOBBY, SLOWLY, WITH YOUR HANDS HIGH ABOVE YOUR HEAD IMMEDIATELY!"**

Crane's eyebrows crossed, his rage and anger combined with the voice's words in his mind strengthened him. A shot of adrenaline erupted throughout his system and momentarily blocked out his body's soreness and aching the numerous bruises brought on. The cruel voice gave him purpose to find his way out, guidance.

_That's not going to happen, Gordon._

Breathing hard, the fear that had been tightening it's grip on his body slowly came under control. He stared down at the cuff's. Crane forced his mind clear of the distracting, rage filled thoughts involving Catwoman and tried to think of a way out of the predicament.  
He was a doctor, he had long known how to put emotion aside to get work done. Seconds ticked by, feeling like hours and his head started to sweat all over again. He ran the free hand through his sweat streaked hair.

_There's no way I could move this desk across the room in my condition, _he thought frantically. _Dammit... I don't have a key for the drawer either..._ _what can I-_

Suddenly the realization hit him square across the face. There might be one hope left to get out of this. Crane reached quickly with his left hand into his pant pocket, pulling out the smooth metal lock pick he had used at Arkham and to break into the very same apartment in which he now stood. How could he possibly have forgotten about it?

**_Yes._**

From the corner of his busily working, anxiety filled mind, Crane heard the others in the distance, undoubtedly racing to the scene. The sound of police and news choppers were filling the air, joining in the chaos. Their rotor blades swished hard in the dark rainy sky as they drew closer to the building. Another flash of lightning cut through the rainclouds, followed closely by the growling rumble of thunder.

There was another blast from Gordon's echoing bullhorn, cutting through the night.

**"CRANE! DON"T BE A FOOL! IF YOU DO NOT COME OUT RIGHT NOW, WE WILL BE FORCED TO COME IN THERE AND GET YOU!"**

Crane ignored the idiotic warning and continued on. He hadn't expected they would be patient about it.

Thankfully, the pick was small enough. Crane placed the head of the lock-pick into the handcuff's lock. He started to jiggle it back and forth, searching for the tumblers keeping the lock in place. Droplets of sweat dripped steadily from his lined forehead as he searched.

A little time passed before Crane had found the first tumbler in the cuff, breathing a sigh of relief as he started to move it up. He'd have to thank Harley the next time he saw her. She'd helped teach the doctor about lock-picking in the Asylum, as Crane never had time to pick up the skill.

Crane could feel three tumblers in the lock, and in another few moments he had picked the first one slowly open.

The bullhorn sounded off again from outside and there was a swarm of boots racing towards the main floor of the apartment. There were shouts and screams of the buildings occupants evacuating the building and racing out to join the crowd in the rain.

**"THIS IS IT CRANE! WE'RE COMING IN TO ARREST YOU! SURRENDER! THERE HAVE BEEN ENOUGH DEATHS ALREADY, GIVE IT UP ALREADY!"**

_There haven't been enough yet Commissioner, _Crane thought nastily. _I can think of many more who need death, yourself included on that long list._

The doctor moved on to the second tumbler, his eyes focused feverishly and unblinking. He felt the tumbler jiggle slightly and pressed the pick's head upwards. There was a slight click as it pressed home. The second tumbler was open.

Several high beam spotlights flashed on suddenly, aimed at his apartment windows from somewhere above the building. Squinting towards the window, Crane thought he could make out the amusingly familiar shapes of at least three huge police blimps floating in the black skies above the parking lot. In spite of his anxiety and the horror of the situation, he felt himself let out a dull chuckle.

_I'll never understand why those parasites use blimps._

Crane turned his head around to the door for a moment and breathed deeply. The SWAT team would be up there soon. He nearly jumped when the voice brought him back to reality from his analysis again.

**_Focus!_**

He obeyed the order without a moment's hesitation, turning back down to his lock-pick and continued for the third time.

At the same time he was working on the Tumbler, Crane could hear the distant footsteps growing ever louder as they made their way to the second floor. The police would be up to Crane's apartment within a matter of minutes.

The lock-pick pressed against the third tumbler in the handcuff's lock, and crane started jiggling it once again. He could feel the tumbler starting to give. It was vital he not press too hard or the lock-pick's head could break off inside the lock. He gently tilted it in a clockwise motion. After a few seconds, there was the satisfying click as the third tumbler snapped upwards in place. Crane sighed in relief. He was free, for the moment.

Doctor Crane quickly opened the cuff and slipped his bony, long fingered hand out of it, then adjusted the noose dangling from his neck. The cuff swung off and clattered into the table drawer. Freedom. He rubbed his sore wrist slowly and placed the trusty lock-pick back into his right pant pocket.

_There we go._

He turned, moved over to the window Catwoman had left from and peered outside, squinting his eyes to make out the shapes easier. Swarms of citizens had gathered in the parking lot and were pointing and buzzing excitedly to each other. Gordon had indeed been right unfortunately: the entire apartment appeared surrounded by blue uniformed police officers, police cars and SWAT vans. Worse still, most of whom were wearing what appeared to be gas masks over their faces. Another thought unpleasantly forced it's self into his mind:

**_They'll be here in moments. You need to get your costume and weapons together...do not fail again Doctor._****_  
_**  
_If the police know where I am... then a certain someone else must know too_, The doctor replied uneasily. _I'll need to make this quick._

_**So stop wasting time and obey**__,__ the other hissed angrily._ _**Get moving!**_

Crane's head snapped back to the direction of the apartments door, as the sound of boots on the stairs moved closer and closer up the building. It occurred to Crane that he was going to have to try fighting his way out, much easier said say then to do, especially after all the wounds Catwoman had been so kind to have given him. He had handicaps.

He breathed deeply and readied himself. He'd have to use the fear liquid in his needles instead of the spray bottle, as the police's gas masks were useless against a direct injection. Getting close, however, would prove challenging. He had to come up with a plan somehow... the doorway was already rigged with a trap, which would take out one of them, hopefully distracting the others. Fear would be his main weapon, along with stealth, as it had been for some time.

Crane turned away from the window and looked back over the table, noticing his large, cracked glasses. He chose to wear them despite this damage, so it would be easier seeing at close range. After putting them on, a bit of the fuzziness disappeared, but the cracks didn't make it much better. He spotted his mask on the exact spot Catwoman had dropped it the previous night next to the table. Several long claw marks had slightly torn the forehead. He scooped it up off the floor and jammed it back on his head, adjusting the numerous seals, clamps and the pair of filters. Air escaped with a wheeze the twin nozzles as they functioned again.

The mask was the most comforting thing of all to have back. It felt good to have his face back on, taking away the burning of fear in his gut. In spite of the grim situation, he was whole, once more.

The villainous doctor turned over to the large book case and hurried towards the fallen books now littering all over the floor from the fight. He moved frantically, tossing volumes aside, and finally found his heavily patched, wide brimmed black hat. He quickly placed it back on top of his masked head and uttered a satisfied laugh.

Crane turned back again to the table and raced over to it, dropping down to his sore knees. He reached for the metal case laying under the table and pulled it out in front of himself. He dug a hand into his left pockets, searching for the key, finally finding it and frantically placing it inside the case's lock. With a simple turn, the case popped open, revealing his arsenal: the five large needles full to the brim of glowing yellow liquid and the spray can holding gaseous fear toxin.

A sinister smile crossed over his features under the already maliciously grinning mask as he carefully placed each needle into the crude, rusty metal holders on each finger of his right glove. Crane adjusted them all, securing each needle to the fingers, along with the straps that helped keep the whole device together. He flexed his thinly gloved hand to test them out. All needles were latched in perfectly, the long glowing tubes now running up his gangly arm. He placed the spray can in his pocket next to the lock-pick. It would only come in handy if he was able to remove their gas masks.

His eyes glanced around the apartment again, searching for his final weapon. Where had the cat suit wearing liar thrown it? As he got up and began to look for it, the banging of footsteps was coming from the end of the hall. The police had made it to the top floor.

Sweat glistened on his face and he sighed in relief as he spotted the long scythe fallen beside the long couch near the television. He ran over to it and took it up in both hands. Breathing hard, he stood up holding it tightly. Before moving into position, he scurried around the apartment, turning off the remaining lights. The only light coming from outside the windows were the search lights, which thankfully didn't illuminate the whole apartment at their angle.

Crane chose his spot from which to strike, a corner of the wall in the living room. It was hidden from view of the door, yet he could peak his head around and watch it. It made sense to strike first, use some of his toxin to spread the confusion and terror. With their morale affected, the rest would fall easier like a row of dominoes.

The heavy footsteps stopped outside the locked apartment door, and a stern unfamiliar man's voice called through it after a few moments. Crane could hear the rest of them from inside, breathing hard. Despite their training, they feared him already.. that was a good start, and Crane hadn't even gotten started yet.

"CRANE! This is Lieutenant Johnson, open the door now! You're going back to Arkham!", The man 's muffled voice shouted from the hallway. "Throw aside any and all weapons and walk slowly out the door with your hands high!"

The raggedy man grinned violently and steeled himself for the fight that lay ahead.

"Perhaps you better come in here and find me!", Scarecrow rasped loudly, poking his head around the corner towards the door. "I'm think I'm a little lost!".

From inside, Scarecrow heard the Lieutenant mutter to his subordinates.

"He's resisting arrest, on my mark we go in and subdue him", The low muffled voice echoed into the apartment. Scarecrow took his head away from the corner and gripped his scythe, waiting. "Don't underestimate this sick bastard. He looks weak but he's damn smart and tricky".

There was more shuffling of boots scraping on the floorboards, and Scarecrow peaked around the corner again. His eyes stopped on the cord trap running in front of the door. Then moved up to the Scythe waiting impatiently above the door. He smiled.

_Knowing their standard formations, there will be eight to ten officers out there. I'll have to fight my way through and make a run down to the second floor. I'll probably have to jump into the alley, they might not have officers posted there.. most of them look to be out front. I can worry about escaping then, if I even get that far, _Scarecrow thought, looking down at his wounds again briefly.

"3!", the Lieutenant's voice shouted, making sure the villain could hear from inside .

Crane closed his bruised eyes beneath the mask and smiled tiredly. His heart beat steadily like a living drum inside his chest. Opening them again, he peered down at the glowing needle glove.

He never should have came here. He knew he should have found a place in crime alley, but it hadn't seemed worth all the noise that went on there. This place hadn't been much of an improvement, but at least it had a less obvious place for him to be.

"2!"

For some, anyways. How had she tracked him down in the first place? Had she been back at Crime Alley without his even knowing? Was she working with who he feared she was working with? Was-

"1!"

**_Enough thinking, Doctor. You have worse problems and misery laying on the other side of that door_**, _**and you know it.** **Pay attention**_ **_and you'll make it._**

"Now!"

* * *

**;) let the escape commence. I hope you liked that and will enjoy the next one, any reviews are much appreciated, along with any ideas or encouragement. All writers need that to keep going lol. Again, thanks for reading, it means a lot :).**


	6. Chapter 6: The Storm

**Acacia24: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked the last chapter and don't worry, i won't be giving up on this story :). Scarecrow is fighting back because that's who he is, I don't agree with the versions that make him out to be a weakling, he's cunning and intelligent lol. That goes a lot further then simple physical strength.  
**

**Athuluis: Thank you :), good to hear you liked it. And yes, I don't understand it much either, but I'm not discouraged. Im doing something that hasn't been done yet, so that motivates me even when I don't get reviews. **

**highland girl 1592: Thank you for the review and all the fave's, im glad you enjoy my story. I certainly intend to keep blending a lot of things into this story ;). Riddler will appear for a bit down the line, and he certainly won't be based on Jim Carreys version (Ugh) . Harley cheering them on seemed to fit lol, she's a gift of a character. As for how my Riddler will be, I haven't really heard of the David Tennant version, but perhaps ill include a couple things about him into my Riddler, along with my main inspiration for him. Thanks again!  
**

**Alright now...this chapter will get gory and show Scarecrow's villainy, evil side even more. I hope I've written it in a way that will have you the readers feeling a bit disgusted with Scarecrow. He IS a supervillain, so I'm keeping it as such. I have no intention for him to become some kind of great guy, repent his actions or some crap. I'm staying with his roots, and although he is a tragic figure who's suffered cruelty, he is also a madman who delights in fear, and I'm sticking with that, along with my own interpretation.**

**Furthermore, we are fast approaching the arrival of certain other characters in the universe ;). Perhaps the first of them will appear in the next chapter...**

* * *

There was a sudden bang as the door was knocked off it's hinges, followed by a scream of pain as the trap went off. A large Scythe blade tore down from the ceiling and blade slammed right into the chest of whoever breached the door. The man's Assault rifle went off, spraying the floor of the apartment beyond the door. Scarecrow ducked slightly from the corner, just in case. This was followed by twin thuds as the man collapsed backwards and his comrades dropped the battering ram, started shouting and trying to help him.

A pleased expression crossed Scarecrow's face as he listened intently to the man's screams of agony, and waited for them to enter the room.

_Smart is right, Lieutenant._

"You two! Get the Lieutenant back outside to an ambulance! On the double!", A different, younger voice ordered from around the corner. A pair of muffled voices acknowledged this order, and there was the sound of dragging as the lieutenant was taken back down the hall, groaning painfully.

"And don't take that fucking thing out of his chest!", the voice shouted after them. "It could have hit an artery!"

_I've gotten their commander already... and two others will be gone for a bit. I think my luck is coming back, _Scarecrow thought excitedly. _The fear is making them grow weaker._

"Let's get this freak!", the new, less experienced sounding leader told the others.

Footsteps moved closer as the remaining officers stepped into the apartment, moving over the carpet. From where he crouched, one with the darkness of the living room, Scarecrow could make out seven tall armored figures close together moving past him, but they were too busy surveying the wrecked apartment to face his shadowed direction. Their helmets and dark gas masks covered their entire head, the men were breathing hard as their fear rose like a thermostat. The flashlights mounted to their assault rifles flickered as they passed over the bloody table and shined out the window. A light came within an inch of the villain hiding amongst the shadows, but stopped, snapping back up to the table suddenly.

"Where the fuck is he?", one of them muttered. "What the hell happened here?"

"Maybe he went out the window?", another suggested, moving past the littered table towards the open window, spotlights strained on them. He peaked out, evidently seeing nothing of interest.

"No chance", One of them replied, "The spotlights would have lit him right up like a Christmas tree".

"What the hell is all this blood doing here? Is this where he did his fucked up experiments?"

Another one of them was staring down at the pair of shiny handcuff's that hung from the drawer on the table. He touched it with a gloved hand and shook his head.

"Maybe...are these his?"

Their new leader ignored them, crouching beside the overturned chair in front of the desk and noticed the ragged dark brown duster coat laying under it. He reached down and examined it, before dropping it back on the floor.

"This is his...according to the commissioner he's been seen wearing it", the officer told the others. "Part of the freak's costume fetish I guess".

As they bickered amongst themselves with their backs turned to them, Scarecrow crouched away from the shadow covered wall, towards the pair of officers closest to him. Thankfully they stood far away from the five others examining the desk area. As he crept forward, closing the gap with the men, He smiled to himself. This was one of the best parts, the moment before the climax. Rising up slowly and standing behind first officer, Scarecrow raised the toxin filled syringe on his right index finger.

As the officer started to turn his head in the Scarecrows direction, Scarecrow jammed the glowing needle of the syringe in the base of his neck and injected a small squirt of the toxin into his system. The other officer spun around, nearly jumping at the sight of the blood covered and torn villain clutching his squirming friend. Possibly more frightening, the thin creature's twisted mask was seemingly grinning back at him, the stitched mouth a terrible and permanent smile. Overcoming his shock, he started to raise his weapon to blow the villain away into bloody ribbons.

Before he could do such a thing, however, Scarecrow had let go of the squirming officer he injected. The villain kicked the assault rifle savagely out of the man's gloved hands and sunk another finger into the front of his uncovered throat, willing the plunger in the glove to inject again. The potent toxin acted quickly through their systems, in mere seconds, as it had been carefully designed to do.

While the officers collapsed to the ground, dazed for a moment before starting to scream. The bony creature moved like the lightning flashing outside the apartment across the hallway. He threw open the closest door and hid in the deep shadows of the bedroom, out of sight, still undetected by the five others now shouting and running over to the screaming men.

_No sense wasting a whole needle on one of them, _Scarecrow thought excitedly, glancing around the dark bedroom and the bed. _The patients will be dealt with soon._

Screams of terror filled the apartment like beautiful bubbling music notes in the doctors ears as he crouched low. It was the sound he loved, what he had always striven to create. The pure terror they exuded warmed his heart like a blanket.

"GET THEM OFF ME! GET THEM THE HELL OFF ME!", one of the injected officers was rolling around on the carpet screaming his head off as he tried scratching at something that wasn't even there. Blue veins throbbed in his forehead and neck as if he was being throttled. "GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"

"Calm down man! You're going to be all right!", An officer shouted fearfully, crouching beside him and attempting to to shake the injected man out of his terrified state. If anything, it made the man thrash and squirm more.

The other injected officer was now curled up into a ball, moaning and twitching as he stared up into the faces of the remaining officers trying to calm him. What the man saw right now, the doctor could only imagine, but it was satisfying none the less. The man's own friends, trying to comfort him, were helping to induce his own fears... the delicious little irony made Scarecrow chuckle quietly.

"Keep away...keep away...keep away", The man moaned repeatedly. "No...please...don't...-

_The toxins effect each person differently, _The Scarecrow reminded himself._ The factors depend on more then just the amount of toxins injected to the subject._

"**_Whatever is the matter gentlemen_**_**?**_", Scarecrow 's whispering rasp asked from down the hall. It seemed to reverberate off the walls, carrying throughout the apartment and adding to the effect. The remaining officer's helmeted head's and rifles flicked over in the direction of the sound.

"**_Scared you... didn't I_**_**?**_"

The fear indeed now hung over the remaining officers as their numbers were reduced, but the man in charge attempted to restore calm as he'd been trained to do. He shouldered the assault rifle and did a 360 degree turn scanning the room with his flashlight but seeing nothing of importance. He turned back to his men and motioned to the pair of men closest to him not standing over the infected men.

"Jack, Harry! Head to the main bedroom and arrest the bastard!", He ordered, pointing across the hall. "We've got the sick fuck cornered like a rat! We'll try to snap Ted and Larry out of this!"

"Yes sir", "Yes Sir", a pair of muffled voices replied, none too enthusiastically.

"He tries to fight back and it'll be a turkey shoot", one of them muttered to the other, his voice growing closer with his footsteps.

The raggedy Scarecrow was indeed trapped from where he was. If he were in his other mindset, he would have been worried with the situation...but Crane wasn't in at the moment, Scarecrow was in charge.

Scarecrow smiled savagely as an ingenious, resourceful idea came to his ever racing mind, his glinting dark eyes resting on the dark sheet on the bed. He set the long scythe down in the corner of the bedroom and put his next plan into action.

The two gas masked men reluctantly did as they were told without complaining, stepping over the two injured men and moving down the hall towards the bedroom the doctor now crouched in. They each raised their weapons steadily and moved through the open bedroom door.

They stopped in front of the bed and glanced worriedly around the small room. There was nothing. No sign of anything as they flashed their lights around. The blanket was clearly missing from the bed in front of them, but other then that, it was all-

Sudden footsteps racing towards them from the right caused both men to spin around. They spun just in time for their flashlights to catch the terrifying face looming down on them. This was followed by complete pitch black as the Scarecrow threw the long dark bed sheet over their heads and wrapped it around the pair. The officers were now blind and stumbling together, trying yet unable to line up a shot.  
The doctor cackled maniacally as he snatched up the scythe again from where he propped it in the corner of the bedroom. He turned back to the angrily shouting men under the sheet, trying to throw it off themselves, raised the long wicked blade of the scythe high in the air and brought it down with all his strength.

The razor sharp blade sank through the sheet and into the shoulder of one of the officers, who screamed and dropped his weapon on the floor. As the officer collapsed under the sheet, Crane lowered a foot down atop him and pulled the bloodstained blade out of the gaping wound. It was an act that reminded the doctor amusingly of pulling an axe out of a stump of wood. This random thought caused him to burst out laughing again, his vicious cackle mixing with the screams of terror from the living room and the terrible shouts from the bedroom.

He held the scythe up again as blood dripped down on the hardwood floor. Next he swung the bloody scythe across, right into the second man's midsection, tearing through his Kevlar vest and the flesh on the other side. The gas masked man gasped inwardly under the sheet as he collapsed to his knees. His hands shook as he put them over-top the blood covered blade sticking through the wound. His hands suddenly went limp, and he collapsed on the floor. Scarecrow twisted the blade inside the wound, then pulled it out with a jerk. But he wasn't done. The doctor rose the stained scythe again and brought it down on the officers back. Red spurted out of the wound as the blade pulled back out again.

Scarecrow reached down and pulled the blood soaked blanket off both men, tossing it aside. He ignored the writhing officer grasping at his own shoulder and glanced down at the unconscious or dead man at his feet. He watched as the blood leaked out and began covering over the floor.

"_**It's never a good idea to interrupt a scientist's work**_", He rasped down at the body, reaching into his own pant pocket. "_**I simply cannot work well under these stressful conditions... you understand, don't you?...Good, I knew you would!**_"

Scarecrow turned his attention back to the squirming, conscious man now. He pulled out the spray bottle of fear gas and slowly crouched low over him. The doctor grabbed the front of the officers gas mask and tore it right off. The man's eyes were now visible, bulging widely at the horrible grinning face hanging over him. It was a beautiful image. Scarecrow raised the bottle to point directly at the mans face.

"_**Don't worry, young man!**_", Scarecrow informed him, voice almost a whisper. "_**I'm a professional and you're in very safe hands here at this clinic. I've tested this medicine very carefully and can tell you it works just fine**_".

Scarecrow triggered the nozzle and a Grey cloud of gas shot out the end of the can. It struck the man square in the face and started a severe coughing fit. He attempted to blink away the gas that had hit his eyes. After a few seconds they started widening fearfully, and he gasped loudly. His body became rigid and tense as he stared up in horror at Scarecrow's mask, veins bulging in his neck.

"_**Yes, the medicine works just fine, I assure you**_", Scarecrow rasped, standing back up and putting away the can casually. "_**I don't feel you'll be back on your feet anytime soon, however. I have been known to lose a few patients here and there, now that I think about it**_".

The man started screaming his head off, joining the screams and whimpers from down the hall. Scarecrow closed his eyes at this, overcome momentarily by the pure pleasure. He quickly snapped his eyes open again, glancing down at the man's waist. From out in the living room, a frightened voice called over the screams.

"Jack! Harry! What the fuck is going-

Whatever he was going to say next was drowned out by a terrified shriek from out in the living room.

_The patient's state is progressing for the worse. Most excellent, the potency was more powerful then ever. I simply must remember to thank Miss Isley._

Strapped in it's holster at screaming man's side was a dark 9mm handgun. Although Scarecrow usually used scythes, sickles and knives, guns still had a special place to him. He couldn't use their assault rifles unfortunately, because he had never bothered to train with them. There was no time to get familiar with one either. Scarecrow doubted his wounded body could handle their recoil... right now, anyways.

The doctor grimaced bitterly at this idea. He reached down and pulled the weapon carefully out of the holster. He examined it carefully and checked the magazine in the gun. It was full, as he had expected, with seventeen rounds. It would serve it's purpose well.

Scarecrow shifted the scythe to his left hand and held the handgun tightly in the right. He switched off the safety carefully and smiled again widely, cocking back the hammer with a click. It was time to get out of this deathtrap.

The doctor walked slowly towards the bedroom door and peaked around the corner. The three remaining officers had gotten up from the previous victims of the fear toxin. The flicker of their flashlights snapped up to where Scarecrow stood in the doorway, illuminating the terrifyingly grinning figure. It's chest was rising and falling, fresh bloodstains spattered patches on most of it's torn, raggedy outfit.

"Oh fuck! There he is!", their now frightened sounding young leader called. "Get the sick bastard!"

Before they could get a chance to adjust their sights, the doctor had bolted across the hall and dived into the dark kitchen. He landed on his stomach on the floor. A fresh ripple of pain rolled up his bruised stomach and through the open claw wounds covering the length of his chest. Somehow, he actually managed to ignore it.  
Bursts of automatic fire tore up the hallway and door frame he had previously stood, and the dark apartment was filled with bright flashes from the rifle's muzzles. Dust rained down from the ceiling and wall where bullet marks peppered, and the noise drowned out the injected men's horrified scream. There was the clanking of shiny brass casings streaming out of the gun and landing on the hall floor.

Finally, the torrent of shooting died down, and the only noise was of the pathetic, quiet whimpering of one of the downed officers. The slow pacing of boots across the floor moved slowly down the hall to bedroom.

"Did we get him?", Scarecrow heard one of the officers ask quietly as they reached the doorway and peered inside.

"I don't think so but where- holy shit! What the fuck did he do to Jack? There's blood all over the place!"

As they surveyed the damage and chattered, Scarecrow got up from the floor in a kneeling position and turned his face back in their direction. In the three men's haste to see the state of their friends, they had forgotten about the dark kitchen behind them.

"Jesus...Christ..."

Scarecrow snapped the pistol up, took aim at one of the men and squeezed down on the trigger three times, the ripple of the 9mm exploding into the air. The first round tore into the back of his shoulder and the next pair into his back. As he collapsed with a low grunt, the other two men spun around and fired blindly in the doctors direction. Scarecrow crouched lower, but he wasn't quite fast enough.

Scarecrow felt as something powerful and scaldingly hot tear into his left shoulder. Searing agony shot through his body and the force of the impact knocked him low, back first to the ground again. He howled in pain beneath his mask, growling and clenching his teeth in an attempt to bite back the overwhelming sea of pain, but didn't stop to check the wound. If he didn't kill them immediately, the next shot would probably take off his head if they adjusted their aim up a little. It wasn't going to end here like that. Not like that.

There was no dignity to it.

The blind shots, however were soon followed by a faint, satisfying clicking noise as the pair of officers magazine's ran out. The Scarecrow bit back his almost blinding pain and laughed triumphantly at this. He slowly raised the deadly 9mm from where he lay on the tiled kitchen floor and opened fire again before they could even remove the next magazine from the belt on their waists. His evil, rasping cackle combined with the loud bangs through the apartment, soared out the wide open window in the living room and was heard all the way down in the parking lot by Gotham's finest.

"_**Ha ha ha ha ha heh heh heh ha!**_"

Scarecrow weakly rose to his feet and moved to the bedroom door, advancing as he fired again and again. For what felt like eternity, he squeezed the trigger. He fired into the last pair of officers, striking all over their legs and chests. As the bullets impacted into the men, they collapsed backwards onto the floor with the rest of their friends. Scarecrow stood over the collapsed men and continued to fire.

As he prepared to shoot one of them right through the gas mask, his gun emptied with a click.

_Isn't that always the way with firearms? No matter._

Turning it over in his hands thoughtfully for a moment, he tossed it aside, and it clattered to the floor. His shaky left hand painfully moved his scythe into the right one. Thirst for blood was coursing through his system now, a terrible thirst that couldn't have been quenched by the mere gun. He stared down at the three bullet ridden police officers littering the door frame and bedroom floor. Only two of them were stirring slightly, their body armor having taken the worst, but they were unable to get up from the ground as they lay in all the blood. The third lay clearly dead, face down as his thick blood drenched the floor underneath him in a puddle.

_This will require tools of the sharp variety!_

The doctor narrowed his eyes and gripped the scythe in both hands. As his hands squeezed down on the metal handle, a spasm of burning pain shot up though the bullet wound on his left shoulder. Again, he forced himself to ignore it, not even glancing at the gore.

_I can deal with it soon. There are more important matters at hand...  
_

He crouched down and slowly removed the masks from the pair of wounded officers before rising again. Rage coursing through his mind, the pain once again was blocked out miraculously as he hissed behind his mask.

"_**The patient's are behaving most uncooperative at the moment**_", He rasped viciously. The men on the floor uttered moans of terrible pain as they tried to regain control. "_**I'm afraid their cases have taken a turn for the worst and become terminal**_".

Scarecrow raised the scythe high and without the slightest hesitation, he brought it down hard on the face of the first man. His teeth shattered instantly inside his mouth as the blade went right through his jaw. Scarecrow brought it down several more times, through his throat and into the forehead, wrenching the blade out each time. The sheer joy of the murder seized control of his being.

Once the man was dead, he turned his attention to the other writhing officer, blood dripping off the blade.

"_**Of course, one with my extensive skills can remedy that quite easily**_"

The blood drenched, horrifying monster Scarecrow slashed the huge blade across his throat. The man gargled helplessly, choking on his own life source as his eyes bulged fearfully, staring into the looming villain's malicious face. Scarecrow grinned right back down at him, waiting patiently. After mere moments, the officer's eyes closed slowly.

Dead.

"_**I**** have frequently practiced euthanasia! I fail to see why it's so often rejected in the field of practice...oh well**_"

Breathing hard, his mind returned to an eerie sense of calm reverie. Some of his revenge had been served. In a very amusing way, at that. He could deal with the rest of Gotham after he got better...perhaps by poisoning the reservoir. But for now, it was time to get out before the next wave of officers arrived. He wouldn't stand a chance if, and when, they got up here. Scarecrow was slightly surprised he'd survived this bunch at all.

"_**The other's catch me up here with their dead friends and they'll naturally be tempted to shoot me**_".

With that, he sighed softly.

The doctor closed his eyes for a moment, hearing only the racing thud of his frantic heart, then glanced down at his thin, bullet struck shoulder. The bullet had gone right into it, not a mere grazing. Blood leaked down in a stream and towards his soaked forearm, dripping all over the floor. It didn't look too good, to say the least, but the doctor's trained medical eye could see it hadn't hit anything vital like an artery. He'd need to get it fixed as soon as possible, however, less it become infected. Blood loss was another issue. Thankfully he hadn't lost a huge amount just yet, and while he felt dizzy, he continued to remain in control of it.

But for how long would that be the case? He couldn't estimate exactly, but it likely wasn't long.

Scarecrow reached down to the stomach of his ragged costume and tore a large piece off, all the way around his back. It revealed most of his pale hued, claw mark covered, nearly emaciated mid section. Carefully, he looped the bloody, raggedy cloth around the badly wounded shoulder, clenching his teeth down hard. The doctor tied a knot and pulled it tight on the injury with a grunt.

_It won't do much, but it's something, _Scarecrow thought to himself reassuringly over the pain. _I can get it fixed later. Provided there is a later to speak of.  
_

He turned away from the fresh corpses piling in the blood soaked bedroom casually. Scarecrow moved back slowly down the hall towards the living room, attempting to hold back the pain threatening to send him into unconsciousness. He had forgotten only one thing at his table, and wasn't about to leave it behind.

The doctor stepped over the other two men who were writhing in the living room, still under the effects of the fear toxin. He ignored their screaming as he moved across the carpet the empty brass casings rolling aside, and reached the blood stained desk. His blood.

Scarecrow smiled as his eyes caught sight of it laying under the overturned chair. With his free left hand, he reached down and picked up his ankle length, shabby coat. He drooped it painfully around his shredded costume. The doctor had to be careful, due to the glowing needles attached to the glove on his right hand. Next, and with great effort, he placed both lanky arms through the open sleeves and adjusted it around himself, popping up the collar around his neck. His left shoulder burned red hot as the coat fell onto the bullet wound and he winced again.

There was no point buttoning it up.

Teeth clenched, the doctor surveyed the utterly wrecked apartment for a few long moments. The bodies, the books littering the floor, the shards of all his destroyed equipment...his eyes stopping at the table Catwoman had thrown him onto mere hours prior. Then as if nothing had taken place at all, he turned on his heel and strolled back down the hall, passing over-top the two moaning and screaming men again. He came to a pause suddenly, and looked back at them, masked head tilted slightly.

"_**You two were my star patients tonight**_", Scarecrow rasped insidiously. "_**Don't look so down**_".

Their pathetic screams were their only response, and it pleased Scarecrow. He uttered a laugh and shook his head. There was another flash of lightning, lighting up his horrible face before disappearing back into the darkness, followed by the low growling of thunder passing over the apartment.

"_**Remember to consider me the next time you require professional medical services at low prices...perhaps I'll be available**_".

He turned on his heel without another word or any regrets and made it to the apartment's knocked over front door. Slowly stepping out and through the puddle of blood filled with spent assault rifle casings that the Lieutenant had left behind, he was stopped in his tracks again.

The brightness of the well lit hall blinded Scarecrow momentarily as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change from the dark apartment. He blinked several times as his vision flooded back slightly behind the mask. He glanced to either side of the hall.

He was alone on the floor. For the moment.

With the bloody scythe hanging over his shoulder like a pack, Scarecrow walked carefully down the apartment's building's empty corridor, his head carefully checking back and forth for any reinforcements. He adjusted his noose and picked up the pace towards the emergency fire stairway leading down into the alley. As he moved cautiously and painfully, the bloody soles of his flat footed shoes left behind a drying, red trail that stretched all the way up the hallway.

With that, Scarecrow left behind the bloody carnage of the apartment without another backwards glance. One of his tattered gloves held onto his bloody, bare emasculated stomach, in an attempt to hold back the pain threatening to consume him.

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**There you go lol...hope I've accurately conveyed how over the edge he is, and hope even more that you enjoyed reading. I'm glad to get this chapter out of the way, so it can continue on with the other characters arriving :). Thank you for reading, and any reviews, ideas, comments, etc are greatly appreciated! See you next time :).**


	7. Chapter 7: That Old Familiar Feeling

**Hush2.0:** **Thanks! :D i did try to give Scarecrow the Arkham Asylum psychotic angle.**

**Athulis:** **Glad you liked this chapter, and thanks for the review! As for Scarecrow's lines, I'm trying to show how different he gets in killing. I've seen it in many of the comics and Arkham Asylum, he's nuts, he babbles, taunts his foes, etc...i dunno, if I did it wrong ill try to work on it. Anyways, the chapter was mostly filler setting up to the next one. It was an unavoidable translation. As for the incompetence of the Swat team...well, how many times have we seen inept officers in Gotham city against the villains? Or comics for that matter? xDD. If they had been unbeatable and they'd caught Scarecrow, it would have taken away from what will happen in this next chapter. Thanks again.**

**Keeper-of-the-Cheese****:** **Thank you for appreciating my idea on Crane :D, it means a lot.**

**highland girl 1592:** **Thanks for all the reviews! Ill just address some of your comments here. I feel it makes sense to portray Crane as confused...im striving for a more realistic portrayal, rather then having the story go into predictability other fics have. I chose Michelle Pfieffer as the template for my Catwoman, but I've also mixed her portrayal with the comic book Selina, as you'll see. I like Edward, he's a great character, my favorite version being the Arkham Asylum Riddler. I wrote that Crane is weaker then Selina because, frankly, he is xD. Strength isn't his main thing, it's cunning. I can understand how you'd think he would develop muscles and whatnot, but he also spends a lot of his time in Arkham Aslyum, and focuses on mind not body. He hasn't been against Batman 20 years I don't think for this story...some of the details I haven't decided yet. As for his fight with Selina, I don't feel that Scarecrow worried too much about what Batman would do if he'd killed her, because honestly, he's a villain, the second or third most evil one in Gotham at that. It's his thing. Harley will come into play later on :), and yes, I was hinting that they are close. As for your comment that Batman doesn't kill ever: he has killed before. During the golden age of comics he killed people all the time, even using a gun sometimes. Michael Keaton's Batman from the Tim Burton movie's killed people and he was my favorite movie Batman. He set a henchman on fire and strapped dynamite to one's chest. I stated at the start that I've based my Batman on a bit of everything. I'm taking elements of the golden age and Burton movies because I don't feel Batman should be afraid to kill if he has to. That isn't to say he won't show mercy and not care for people, however. I drew inspiration from the animated series and comics too in that regard. More will be explained in this story. As for the 'Nolanverse' Scarecrow and everything, the 'Nolanverse' doesn't factor much into my story, I just don't care much for the portrayals in it. The Scarecrow of the movies did an ok job, but they demeaned him in making him young and overtly attractive, along with only wearing the mask part of his costume. He is beaten far to easily in the movie, and it doesn't feel true to the character. With the true Crane, I envision him being like Jeffery Combs in The Re-animator, who helped inspire my choices with Scarecrow. He's obsessive with his work, takes pride in it, will do anything to accomplish it, possesses insane intensity. He doesn't fuck around. Anyways, thanks again for the reviews!**

**AarikazZ: Thank you :), reviews like that mean a lot to me. Im glad you like how I portray him. It's important to get into the depths and intensity of a character, and one as interesting as Scarecrow is a perfect example. He is certainly an evil bastard, and I wanted to keep him as such, but there's more to him. There's a level of tragedy and sympathy in his origin that I feel sorry for, despite how many bad things he does. I feel it goes against the character not to keep them at their roots, and in Scarecrow's case, he's one of Gotham's most evil and demented. I wanted to get inside his rotting mind, to show how he might think, feel, etc depending on the circumstances, who he is with or the situation. I'm glad you also like the premise and the pairing. I chose it because not only was it original, it just seems to fit my interpretation. Catwoman makes a good foil to Scarecrow, She's physically strong, he isn't so much, she's a dominating, strong attituded woman, Scarecrow has never been that great with the opposite sex. She's the take charge type, the kind of woman who can open up Scarecrow to not being so alone. Things just fit. No need to thank me :D Thank you for reading :).**

**Anarchy: Thanks for the review and idea :), but it doesn't fit into the story, you'll see what happens. I like Dark Knight, but most of my ideas come from elsewhere, though I might make some references here and there to it lol.**

**Count Nightmare: Thanks for the review and idea lol. Yes, I knew his origins during the writing of this story, and I've addressed it in chapter 4 :), and will address it further.  
**

**I'm glad to have finished the previous chapter, as I can now get to where i want in the story ;) certain others making their confrontational arrival. Thank you for all the reviews! It seems people are liking the story :). Without further ado, here you go:**

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The Scarecrow lurched tiredly through the metal fire door leading to the alley, holding his bloody chest with one sore hand. The horrible waves of pain was coming back to him again in huge doses as his adrenaline from the fight started to vanish. It washed over his bruised and aching body uncontrollably and he clenched his teeth.

He felt his thin body beginning to shake and shiver as the cold night air swept over his exposed, emaciated midsection. The icy water falling down overhead just made his wounds feel worse, the constant patter striking at his torn skin and running down, intermingling with the red.

There had been another pair of officers he'd encountered on the way down through the apartment halls who's missed bullets had nearly torn his head right off, had he not ducked. It had taken far too long to inject them with the fear toxins, so long in fact that he'd decided not to ream them to pieces with the scythe. Instead the chemicals would take care of them gradually, just like the pair writhing back in the apartment.

He stepped out quickly into the filthy garbage strewn alley and paused for a moment. A single long metal lamppost sat against the far side of the alley's brick wall, close to the trash cans. It's weak, flickering glow faintly illuminated that far left section on the alley The doctor turned back and carefully closed the heavy door behind himself, just in case.

Running the patchily gloved hand without the syringe gauntlet over the small railing to steady himself, he stepped down a trio of rickety iron steps, trudging over a murky puddle that sat in front of the last one and pacing towards the middle of the alleyway. The steady down-pouring of rain dripped upon him from above, soaking his dirty coat and mask as he moved.

On either side of the alley, dozens of posters and announcements had be pinned up, some torn, displaying their bright text in the faint glow of the alley. Most involved rock concerts and upcoming events in Gotham city. Scarecrow's dizzying vision made the words look distorted and sickening in appearance, adding to his bewildered state of mind.

One of the largest of these posters that Scarecrow could make out on the left side of the alley, stood out the most from the others. It was of an attractive, bright eyed young woman with long flowing raven hair who was holding out a black top hat and winking. She possessed a beautifully wide smile on her black lipstick covered lips as she stared back at the blood covered, raggedy villain.

Protruding out of the hat was a large white rabbit. The long legged woman in a pair of dark nylons also wore a black suit top with a buttoned up white dress shirt visible beneath, along with an equally bright bow tie.  
_  
__**The Gotham City Stage Company Proudly Presents: Zatanna Zatara, Mistress Of Magic! Live! Running From November 8th To 15th, Get Your Tickets On Sale Now!**_

Glancing away from the poster, Scarecrow's frantic heart was hammering away at his ribcage as he tried to clear his head of everything, including the sight of all the poster images spinning about his mind. Finally, he came to a stop about halfway through the alley. The long scythe he'd been holding shakily in his bullet struck left arm toppled out on it's own will, falling with a clang as the blood soaked blade tip struck the pavement. Scarecrow painfully fell down to his knees next in a puddle, soaking them with the ice cold water. He uttered a low yet clearly agonized grunt and his soaked coat clung to his pants, the tips of his gloved fingers falling into the water along with the sharp tips of the glowing syringes on the other.

His eyes snapped shut against his will while black clouds began to consume his racing mind. He was growing dizzy and shaky, as he had feared the blood loss would do soon, it's affect nauseating. The masked villain felt a fresh surge of vomit slowly rising from the pit of his stomach to his throat that he painfully forced back, swallowing the bitterness with a disgusted shudder that ran through his body.

_I can_'t _black out. I can't black out. If I black out, it's all over._

The voice, seemingly hearing his fearful mumblings in his mind, spoke up again. Crane welcomed it. It was good to have someone else who's existence depended upon his survival. Although he usually was content being alone, now simply wasn't one of those time. It uttered a cold laugh as it surface that could have made a Venom amped Bane cringe.

Crane saw and felt it's murky appearance in the depth of his ravaged mind, surveying his bodies weakened state through a pair of pitiless and sinisterly glowing yellow eyes.

_I Can't..._

_**Look**_ _**at you doctor**_**,** It rasped mockingly. _**Bleeding to death from more wounds then I can count. How's the arm feeling?**_"

It laughed wildly, and Crane's eyebrows narrowed.

_I...need to get up. Get everything fixed up somehow.  
_  
_**And how will you accomplish this?, **_the voice asked, making him work for the answer.

_I'll look for one of Sionis's underworld connections. They surely have the proper supplies to fix me up, and a fellow doctor. You know how many of his men get injured. I can pay him back with a favor._

_**A foolish idea doctor, born of desperation... owing Sionis a favour is never exactly intelligent. He almost makes you look sane.  
**_

Scarecrow glanced down at his wounded body, the claw mark running down to his stomach and torn costume, the tourniquet wrapped around his shoulder.

_My options aren't exactly numerous. Doing a some work for him would be better then bleeding out._

The cold inhuman voice laughed dryly.

_** So you say. You'll change your tune soon enough, if you succeed. Now get your incompetent self back up and leave this disgusting alley. They'll find you in no time if you stay here much longer.  
**_  
Over the course of his inner chat with the other, the fog in his mind began to dissipate. The company of the other strengthened his resolve and drive. When he felt well enough, assured he wouldn't black out yet, he forced himself to slowly open his eyes. The villain found himself staring down at his own oddly distorted reflection in a puddle under his feet, breathing hard as the pain wracked over his thin body.

_Never...been this bad..._

That mask reflecting back, so horrible to others, yet so welcome to him, grinned. It told him to keep going. It gave him a reason to. Why should he keel over and pass out? He would be like every other weak wretch in the city...and he was neither.

Lightning flashed, and his malicious face grew white for the slightest moment. Pure. It was gone before he could blink behind the mask. He breathed unsteadily through the filters.

That was all it took. Using every ounce of the effort he could muster up from his body and mind, Crane reached over to his fallen scythe and scooped it up, climbing unsteadily to his flat sole covered feet, stretching his syringe covered hand.

Slowly, he turned his sore neck and glanced down each end of the alley, exhaustively surveying his possible options. One side, the one to the left, stopped at a high brick wall, trash cans littered in front of it. There was no possibility of going out that way. The other led into the paved, well lit street, around which led to the parking lot of the building the swarming pigs were stationed in.

Not many options.

_If I move quickly, I can probably slip through the street unnoticed. They would have sent up another, larger team to the apartment by now_, _maybe my destruction on the fourth floor will distract them for long enough, what with the toxin filled subjects they'll undoubtedly need to attend to._ _I'll need to watch out for any citizens who spot me and undoubtedly will give away my position.  
_  
The whine of sirens and police choppers had died slightly, as the alley was on the opposite side of the building where they were focused. Aside from this, only the rain was making a steady sound. Due to this lessened background noise, he could have sworn he heard something make a faint rustling noise from somewhere up on the building. He cocked his head to the side, listening carefully.

Scarecrow peered upwards, but saw only the illuminated windows of the apartment building, it's brick side empty of the familiar shape he'd expected to find.

It had been a noise with a purpose, intentional, not bumbling or accidental.

He was alone in the alley from all appearances... and yet he could oddly feel a pair of penetrating eyes staring down upon him from somewhere close by. It was a feeling that he'd come to experience quite a few times now. The doctor smiled as his cloudy mind finally caught up and realized what this was.

It was over for him now, and he knew as much. Despite all the wounds lining his body, the blood loss and the swarms of police, he wasn't about to go quietly. At least, not if he could help it.

"Ahh", Scarecrow rasped loudly, closing his eyes. He laughed bitterly, then coughed as a sharp jolt of pain shot through his injured chest like a solid kick.

"You're right on time... just as you always have been. Aren't you now?"

There was a sudden whistling through the air to his left that he knew wasn't the wind, followed by a loud bang as something hit one of the closest trashcans and knocked it right over on it's side. Scarecrow snapped his head to the noise's direction, but otherwise wasn't fazed. He gripped his scythe tightly and moved down the alley towards the trashcans, searching for the familiar small shape.  
As he limped closer to the end of the alley, past the rickety iron stairs, he saw it laying there. A black, sharp metal object with the shape of wings protruding on either side and a pair of hornlike ears. Scarecrow lowered painfully to one knee, picked the object up carefully and stared down at it. Drops of water rolled steadily down it's bladed sides and dripped to the pavement.

Unknown to the doctor, four stories up overlooking the alley, a giant black shadow stirred. It was perched on the side of the of the apartment building like a great creature of the night looming over it's prey. If one were to look closely enough into the shape blended to the building, however, they would see a pair of glowing white slits had flickered on and were staring back down at them. Long, solid black wings seemed to extend from either side of the flowing shapes back.

It pushed off from the building, swooping eerily through the rain filled skies and down towards the raggedy villain below. Like a predator bearing down on it's prey.

As it glided soundlessly closer to it's target, the shape came to a stop. It landed with a forward somersault in the alley, the wings folded around it's body, and possessing an almost supernatural silence. Still unheard by the kneeling man in the torn costume over the rumble of thunder, as it began to rise upright, it methodically gripped the pair of handles firmly and folded it's wing's down. The midnight black wings and handles disappeared in a flash back into the sweeping black cloak that hung from around it's shoulders all the way to it's boots.

"No need to hide, Little Bat", Scarecrow rasped again, standing back up and adjusting his long, dirty coat painfully. "You made it here on time to get me, but I still thought you'd arrive far sooner then this".

The rippling thunder overhead was the only reply, along with the patter of rain as it fell all around him.

Scarecrow let go of the Batarang and it clattered back down on the pavement. He turned his head back down to the other side of the alley, but his eyes came to a stop on the hulking figure standing upright not four meters away. A cold grip of fear seized his heart as he surveyed the giant black shape's appearance closely.

Rain dripped slowly down Batman's titanic body as he glared back silently, his massive jet black cloak fluttering in the chaotic winds. The bright slits of his white lens covered eyes pierced through the raggedy Scarecrow. The pitch black, armored costume covered the night creatures body from his head to boot. It was intricately weaved, and looked like it was his actual body rather then straightforward armor. Rippling muscles covered the costume, and Scarecrow had little doubt they were his own. The suit was neither bulky looking or too tight, seeming to fit his massive body perfectly.

Batman's powerful arms were visible slightly thanks to the gap in the front of the cape. They rested casually at his side. Sitting and protruding on the arms of the large gauntlets, three vicious fin looking blades were grouped close in a row. They dared Crane to move.

The only colors that stood out on the costume's black background, apart from the sinisterly glowing lenses, were the bright yellow oval emblazoned on batman's large chest, a yellow utility belt attached onto his waist, possessing numerous slots and pouches, and the exposed lower portion of his face poking out below the cowl. In the center of this yellow oval sat a symbol of a pointy eared black bat spreading it's wings out on either side, similar to his Batarangs.

_Walking bulls-eye, _Scarecrow found himself thinking randomly, his mind shaking around in his own head frightfully. _Walking bulls-eye_, _Little Bat the walking bulls-eye._

The exposed lower face on the Caped Crusader was set in a grim, serious expression, lips tightened together firmly. Droplets of water ran down his cowl in streams. Scarecrow could make out traces of dark, wet and rough stubble sprouting on his chin and cheeks. On closer examination, he spotted that a long bloody cut was slashed across Batman's chest, directly above the bat symbol. Batman's black cowl seemed to blend perfectly together with his face, stopping right at his covered nose. Two long and pointy protrusions sat on either side of his cowled head, almost more like sharp horns of a devil then bat ears.  
The yellow utility belt secured around the waist was exposed on the front, but the cape hid most of it. From what the doctor could see, various pouches and slots were all over it, along with what looked like his frequently used Grappling Hook connected to the side.

Batman's narrowed white slits flickered off suddenly, revealing the dark and serious eyes that lay beneath the lenses.

"Well... it's about that time again, isn't it Little Bat?", Scarecrow heard himself rasp out sardonically. "So soon?"

Batman didn't move. He stared down his nose at the heavily injured man before him, examining the bloody state of his scarecrow costume underneath the unbuttoned duster. The imposing knight spoke suddenly as his firm eyes stopped upon the familiar claw marks running all down the length of Crane's thin chest and stomach. His jaw tightened.

"It's seems she's already had her way with you, Crane", Batman's low and deadly serious voice commented. "And you've just fought and murdered most of a SWAT team as well. You're in poorer condition then usual".

Crane scoffed painfully, still gripping at his wounded chest.

"You sent her up here to distract and keep me occupied until you could get here... didn't you Little Bat?", Scarecrow spat furiously, his fist clenching around the scythe handle. It pained him to do so, but he didn't stop squeezing it. "Is that your new strategy? Sending Catwoman after the rest of the freaks to keep them occupied when you're too busy to arrive yourself? Tricking them, handcuffing them to a table and sending a swarm of those scum to pick them up? I can admit there is cleverness behind it...but it still makes you a filthy little..."

Batman's grizzled face didn't even blink at these words, nor the torrent of dark curses that followed. Eventually, the raging villain lost his breath for a few moments, overwhelmed with disgust, and Batman spoke again.

"I didn't ask her to do anything to you", He replied after Scarecrow was done, his tone even. "It was her choice to go after you in particular, as part an arrangement we made".

Crane could feel his rage reaching a boiling point all over again. His blood burned with hatred. His questions were rising again, his thirst for the truth running feverishly.

"What arrangement?", He hissed impatiently. "What is all this insanity Little Bat?"

Batman ignored his question and continued on.

"I didn't arrive sooner, because I was too busy dealing with Croc and Harvey's messes last night", Batman stated coldly. "The police went after you as I caught and sent the others back to Arkham".

The doctor's face began to twitch angrily, unable to control himself any longer, he exploded.

"WHAT ARRANGEMENT?", Crane felt himself scream angrily at the man's grim unchanging face. The events of last night were still a blur to him. So many questions were unanswered, and impatience was swimming uncontrollably though his confused mind. He wanted...no, needed answers.

Batman's expression remained the same as the shout echoed through the alley and slowly faded away. There was a moments pause before Batman replied.

"It's no longer relevant", Batman informed Scarecrow simply. His voice was quiet and unreadable, yet Crane could strangely feel there was something being carefully hidden behind it. "The arrangement will dissolve with your capture".

Crane stared back, his expression under the mask turning into splitting pool of livid hate. So, that was his sideways answer? So be it.

"If that's all you have to say, Little Bat, then I may as well carry out my part now then", the doctor rasped, his stance growing rigid. Batman on the other hand remained the same: stiff and upright. "And get this started".

"If that's your wish", Batman's squared, tightened jaw replied seriously, waiting for the villain to act.

Scarecrow hefted his scythe up slowly and grinned. In spite of the sheer hopelessness of the act and the extra pain this would bring, he went ahead with advancing. The doctor laughed maniacally and rushed down the alley at the motionless, huge black figure. He swung the bloody scythe across the air towards Batman, it's deadly point screaming for more blood.

Batman shot out his strong arms like a flash of lightning and grabbed the the Scythe's blade with a single gloved hands. Before he could rip it out of the doctors hands, Scarecrow jerked the handle up and down quickly and the blade managed to slide down onto the back of Batman's right hand.

The back of the armored glove was torn open slightly, spilling his fresh blood down it. He jerked the hand away and moved it over to the handle. Rather then reacting from the pain, Batman ignored it and carried on with the fight, a scowl forming on his determined face.

Almost like a parent taking a toy from a greedy child, Batman easily wrenched the scythe out of the doctor's hands with a tug, throwing Scarecrow completely off balance. Before the doctor knew what hit him, Batman had launched a powerful open handed strike aimed exactly where Scarecrow didn't want it to go. The hand smashed right into his mask with enough force to break his nose sitting directly behind it.

As the Scarecrow reeled back holding his masked face, Batman folded the metal Scythe in half like a twig in both hands. He tossed it over his cloaked shoulder without taking his serious eyes off the doctor. It slid across the rain soaked pavement and came to a stop in a puddle.

Another burst of lightning flashed, illuminating the horrific scene in the alley in a terrifying white flash for a split second.

Scarecrow howled in pain as blood poured out the nostrils of the unnaturally crooked nose, swimming both over and into his mouth. His howling quickly turned into gargles, spitting and retching. Reacting instinctively now without any guiding thoughts, Crane raised his needle covered right glove and lunged, attempting to stab out savagely at Batman's cowled face.

Before the needles could make contact, Batman had already moved to the side faster then Scarecrow could have imagined. The five sharp tips of the syringes missed his body and tore down through Batman's billowing cape, leaving long claw-like tears. At the same time, Scarecrow felt a powerful arm come from behind and loop around his neck roughly, holding him on the spot.  
As he struggled to break the incredible strength of the grip, another arm came down to his needles, easily ripping the entire glove off his hand. There was a snap as the metal holders fastened to his arm broke. Batman tossed the needled glove down on the pavement, where all the needles shattered. The syringes spilled their glowing yellow toxins, causing the doctor to moan.

"Not my samples...", Scarecrow wheezed painfully, struggling for air. His vision now swimming with familiar black dots threatening to consume him. "Wasted...You..."

Scarecrow continued to struggle with one arm. Although failing to break Batman's iron clad grip, he was able to hold it back slightly to buy himself a few more seconds. He had one last trick up his sleeve, however. With his free hand, he reached down weakly to the pocket on the front of his duster. It dug desperately until it closed around the smooth and welcome metal.

The doctor pulled out the dark handle of the switchblade and flicked it open with a snap. Before Batman could spot the flash of the blade, Scarecrow had reached down and was attempting to slash down a part of the Dark Knight's muscular leg.

Batman grunted quietly as the razor sharp blade dug into his skin and began to run down it slowly. Scarecrow grinned maliciously through his horribly blood drenched face. He guided it as quickly as possible, blood spilling from the growing wound. The powerful armor there, however, prevented the blade from getting too deep into the limb and slowed it's progress greatly.

Batman flipped the raggedy Scarecrow away from himself. Scarecrow stumbled backward, managing to keep on his feet despite nearly collapsing to the ground. Still holding the bloody knife, he raised it again to charge forward at the Dark Knight, his teeth clenched. However, before knew what hit him, a pair of twirling razor sharp Batarang's cut through the alley towards him and did exactly that: hit him.

One of the well aimed Batarangs sailed into his right hand clutching the knife, sticking into the palm and knocking the knife into muddy puddle behind Scarecrow. He howled painfully as it impacted, until the second razor sharp Batarang shut him up by striking his mask and sticking right through it. The tip punctured through one of the nozzle's and carried on right into his cheek. His head snapped back from the force and stars began to flutter over Crane's vision. He stumbled and lurched around confusedly in a circle, grabbing at the protruding Batarang, unsure where Batman had gone and where the next strike would come from.

The villain poked his tongue over to his terribly painful cheek behind his mask, feeling it run over something pointy that possessed an oddly warm and metallic taste. The tongue lurched back as if scalded by hot water.

His dark eyes bulged with horror as he realized what the well tossed Batarang had accomplished.

_It...through my..._

Without thinking Scarecrow gave a mighty tug and tore the bladed weapon out of his thin cheek as quickly as possible. He uttered a terrible scream of agony that echoed throughout the alleyway. The dark metal shape clattered down on the ground and a torrent of warm redness squirted out the small yet deep wound. It ran like a stream over the stitched mouth of his mask, staining the now punctured metal nozzle protruding from the side.

Desperately he did the same for the Batarang sticking out of his left, gloved palm, teeth baring together so tightly it hurt. God...what didn't hurt?

Out of the corner of the wild haze that was his vision, breathing and hearing, Scarecrow could make out a pair of rough gauntlet covered hands seizing his body. The back of one of the black gloved had been torn slightly and was stained with dripping blood.

_Should... tried..spray...?_

Batman had spun the nauseously dizzy Scarecrow around to face him, grabbed him by the front of his ragged duster and lifted him off the ground effortlessly. The Creature of the Night threw the thin man back down the length of the alley towards the trash cans. He impacted into the red and brown brick wall, his wide brimmed, heavily patched hat falling off and dropping down at his moving feet.  
The stumbling doctor tripped backwards over a metal can and collapsed amongst the rest of the overturned cans. Scarecrow didn't move as he lay, coat spread out around himself.

There was silence once more in the alleyway beside the apartment_._

For the first time in the past night, Scarecrow didn't struggle to rise up to his feet again. He didn't even make the attempt to squirm. The doctor merely lay wheezing in a limp pile amongst the garbage and spilled debris as a metal trashcan gouged into his back. Mixed blood and sweat dripped steadily down his overheated face.  
The villain was aware that he could barely breath, but was too exhausted to rip the suffocating, dirty old mask off his own head. He'd surely suffocate to death laying right here. His breath became constricted, and he started to gag as the blood pooled in his mouth. The living shadow that was looming down upon him, however, took care of it.

Batman crouched low, grabbed the grinning, blood and water soaked mask by it's sewn up mouth and tore it off the doctor's face. The rusty metal clamps and seals at the neck of the mask, keeping it completely attached to his head, broke instantly as the mask gave way. Cold air rushed into the doctors lungs like rejuvenating medicine. He gasped weakly and spit out the mouthful of blood onto the front of his own already horribly ruined costume. The freezing, cleansing rain dripping down on his boiling, thin face was the most wonderful thing he could imagine right now. The droplets mingled with his blood, running down his body and cleaning his face up a little.  
Crane took several deep, painful breaths. He could feel Batman patting down his coat now, searching for more weapons. His black gauntlet covered hands stopped upon Crane's shabby pant pocket, in which a small spraying container sat.

Batman's glowing white lenses flickered back on as he removed the fear toxin container and held it up, examining the nozzle carefully. After a few seconds, the white slits vanished back into his normal serious eyes. He placed the container in a front pouch of the bright utility belt on his waist.

"The Little Bat is a thief", Crane murmured wildly. It hurt so much to speak...but the words kept flowing out like the blood. "My work...my..."

The grim faced Dark Knight stared victoriously back down amongst the trashcans, into Crane's pained eyes. His magnificent black cape billowed around him in the wind, making it appear like it had a mind of it's own.

"Back to the asylum", Batman stated quietly. He still held Crane's mask in his left, clenching hand.

Crane coughed weakly, out of energy to even move an inch. He twisted his face into a horrible, bloody smile. Or something that seemed to pass for a smile. Blood flowed freely from his partially torn cheek.

"Why not just go ahead and finish up here, Little Bat? Earn yourself a standing ovation from the public gallery", the doctor suggested, not a trace of fear in his now deadpan voice. "I know that you want to... I know how much you hate Joker, yet don't kill him. I just murdered several police officers, not to mention the twit who owned that apartment. You've murdered henchmen and gang members indiscriminately all the time, but send the rest of us back to the Arkham... why not kill one of your fellow costumed freaks for once?"

The Dark Knight said nothing, his dark, shadowed eyes penetrating Crane's own dazed yet resolute ones.

"Perhaps I know why...you need us as much as we need you, isn't that right?".

Batman continued to peer back silently at the villain, surveying the shattered nose and small, yet gaping hole on his thin right cheek. Behind it, he could actually see a small tint of white...his teeth. He'd need countless stitches to close it back up, along with all the other wounds from Catwoman and the police.  
This had to be the worst beating the villain had ever taken before, yet here he was gagging on his blood and asking for more, for him to finish the villain. Batman's expression remained unreadable for another moment. Slowly but surely, a faintly amused, yet respectful look replaced it, forming on lower portion of his face.

"It might happen", He replied quietly. Batman reached down to Crane's neck, grabbed his collar and pulled the limp man off the trashcans and back up to his feet.

"But not today".

Batman reached around his cape, dug into his yellow utility belt and removed a pair of high tech looking black handcuffs, with several glowing buttons on them. He locked both cuffs around Crane's wrist. After securing them, he grabbed the back of the doctors duster. He started dragging the limp, yet conscious, man, easily down the alley in one hand, while he held the Scarecrow mask in his other.  
Crane's stick-like legs slid helplessly against the cold pavement, soaking them. He made no attempt to shrug off Batman's iron grip as the blood continued to spill off his face and arms, dripping down onto his gloved hands.

_Done. Just like that._

Batman raised a hand to his pointy ear and keyed the sub-dermal communication device connected to his Batsuit. There was a slight clicking sound as it connected to whoever was on the other line.

"Oracle?", his low voice inquired.

"Go ahead Batman".

"We're done here. I've apprehended The Scarecrow with no problems. You should go rest. You've more then earned it"

Over the communication channel and heard only by the Dark Knight's ears, the young woman's voice sighed with relief. Three super-villains would be back behind bars where they belonged.

"Copy that Batman, great job. I'll let Alfred know. Yeah, I'd better get some sleep or something... I'm exhausted over here. I don't want dad getting suspicious when he get's back home.".

"Agreed", the low voice of Gotham's knight replied. As he neared the halfway point of the alley, he spotted the same alley hung poster of Gotham's most famous magician that Crane had. The corner of his tightened mouth seemed to soften slightly as he passed it. "I appreciate the assistance. Batman out."

With those last words to his assistant, stationed miles away, Batman keyed the sub-dermal communication device again, switching off the channel with a quiet beep.

The Creature Of The Night continued to pace purposefully over the puddles. Ignoring the dull throbbing pulsing in his injured leg, he started to leave the seemingly endless, dank and silent alley. Dragging the nearly unconscious super-villain beside him, he moved in the direction that led towards the buzz of noise on main street that lay just ahead

* * *

From somewhere high above at the same time, a slender, powerful dark figure crouched on a roof of an opposite apartment building. Rain slowly dripped off it's sleek black suit. Long white stitching's ran across the body, along with blood covered rips now and then, particularly the long slash across her stomach. In one hand it tightly held the long bullwhip, coiled on the rooftop. The figure peered over the side and watched for a few moments before tapping a button on her goggles with a glassy black hand.

The bright flash of the red, night vision goggle covered eyes zoomed her vision forward to the pair below. It gave a much better view in the weather, albeit, adding a glowing green color to everything she saw.

After a moment of watching it, the gaze moved away from the large dark green figure's cloak and stopped on the ragged man it was dragging across the pavement and through the numerous puddles helplessly.

Another flash of lightning lit up the black skies, illuminating the normally dark, Gothic architecture of the numerous buildings that stretched off into the distance of the city, and the helicopters and blimps hovering at the front of the apartment.

An unreadable expression slowly formed on the lower exposed portion of Catwoman's ghostly pale face. She surveyed state of the blood covered man, whose head seemed to be lolling back and forth, miraculously still conscious from the fight. What the young woman was pondering at that moment was anybody's guess. Her blood red lips pursed inward, reflectively.

As she watched, Crane weakly raised his neck, turning his head and searching the buildings above the alley. He seemed to pause on a spot over her head or maybe even directly on her glowing red eyes. The fierce rain and darkness made it too difficult to determine, combined with his broken glasses that would likely restrict some of his sight.

Catwoman tapped the same button again, their zooming night vision turning off. The slender, sleek figure stood up again slowly, taking her time. She raised a gloved hand to her lips and blew the thin, raggedy figure a soft kiss. After another moment of hesitation, she reluctantly moved out of Crane's hazy sight. With a snap of her long bull whip, it latched onto a distant railing. With a graceful leap, she disappeared off somewhere into the stormy night.

Back down in the alley, Crane's head slumped down weakly as the oddly familiar shadow on the building vanished from his vision. He sighed and closed his eyes tightly, hearing only the steady beat of rain on the pavement, the rough sliding of his legs on the ground and the solid footsteps of the grim vigilante dragging him by the collar, and he was unsure if he'd hallucinated the outline or not.

* * *

**:) And there you go! Chapter 7, Batsie has finally arrived and Crane's going 'home'. Now even more characters will be appearing ;). Thank you for reading, it means a lot you all enjoy my vision. Any reviews, comments, suggestions are much appreciated! **


	8. Chapter 8: Navigating A Crowd

**A stray: Thank you :), I shall indeed continue.**

**Athulis: Thanks you! :D I'm glad to hear my portrayal of him is faithful. Scarecrow is indeed a very serious person, I drew part of this aspect from Re animator and the Scarecrow comics. Thanks again!**

**Alright, I've been giving my chapters time between posts to collect the reviews, and in that time I've been writing my other Batman stories. It's a good system lol, so you'll be seeing more from me soon enough. Anyways, I hope you'll like this next chapter:**

* * *

The combined droning of the citizens, police, sirens, blimps and choppers had filled up the entire rainy night sky. It almost matched the growls of thunder coming from overhead. Giant Spotlights attached to and shining down from a trio of massive yet slow moving police blimps passed over the apartment windows, illuminating the entire dark complex.

Near the front of the surrounded building, a crowd of the rain soaked onlookers at the scene had gathered around the sleek, black vehicle. Many had been woken from the din of the police and came out of the surrounding apartments. They whispered excitedly amongst themselves about the amazing metal shape, it had to be at least twenty feet long from front to back.  
The costumed man who'd driven the car had left it right here, got out, locked it up and disappeared somewhere into the night. Where was he? Was he capturing the mad doctor for the police after they'd failed? The questions raced through the minds of most of the citizens, but others were simply there after hearing that the Dark Knight himself had arrived on scene.

The Batmobile was a truly magnificent looking vehicle to behold, almost every eye in the crowd staring at it with mixed envy and surprise.

It had been parked in the center of the cement road, away from the parking lot the police had filled with police cars. The glow from the street lights stuck in the pavement illuminated the black frame, making it easier to see for the onlookers on the dark night. It seemed to be locked down with layers of thick black armor panels shielding it. The shields wrapped over the hood, windows, engine and wheels, along with the rest of the car. The armor hid most of the vehicle underneath. It was mostly just a large, cocoon-like shape at the moment. There was a large, strange head-like shape protruding out the front of the vehicle, which the armor panels were wrapped over as well.

The most bizarre, visible feature of the seemingly alien vehicle was a rather large, blackened steel battering ram that sat in front of the car's long hood, staring ahead. It was the only feature of the vehicle that remained untouched by the armor panels of the cocoon. It didn't really need any more plating then it already had, and had clearly seen much use against the criminal elements of the city, based on several tiny dents that lay on various spots on it.  
It's theme of course fit in with the whole 'Bat' persona Gotham's crime fighter had adopted, possessing a pair of pointy ears on either side of it's shrunken looking bat-like head, along with a pair of dark slits for 'eyes' and a long pointy protrusion that sat poking out from where the mouth would be located.

Several people close to the vehicle ran their hands over the rain soaked metal. It was very smooth like glass, yet it was a high tech materiel that no one in the crowd had ever seen before. A group of police officers had tried half halfheartedly to discourage the people away from the cocooned car, but soon gave up, themselves interested in the unique vehicle.

Camera's flashed as reporters in the crowd took photos of the Batmobile.

"Wow! What a scoop!", one of them commented excitedly, snapping away at the cocooned object. "How the hell did he build this thing?"

The rain continued to pour down on the citizens, but none seemed to care. The event at hand was just too important. Suddenly there was an excited scream somewhere in the crowd as a young woman in a raincoat spotted a pair of shapes leaving the alleyway next to the building.

"Oh my god! Look! It's him!", the woman shrieked, gesturing frantically. The entire crowd turned away from the vehicle and watched in amazement as the Dark Knight himself paced down the street towards them, his large cape blowing back and forth behind him in the wind. An excited babble fell over the crowd as Batman got closer.  
In one of his powerful arms he was dragging a thin, ragged, bloody man in an ankle length, filthy brown duster along with him on the street. Clasped in one hand was a bizarre looking mask that undoubtedly belonged to the man.

The crowd seemed to explode with noise as everyone reacted to the Vigilante's sudden appearance. He was used to it by now, and gave no reaction of caring.

"Batman! HEY BATMAN! HOW ABOUT AN INTERVIEW? YOU'LL GET THE FRONT PAGE!", A male reporter shouted excitedly.

The cameraman beside him focused sharply on Batman and his villainous, unwilling compatriot. More bright flashes lit up the night all over as all the other camera's aimed on the two costumed men. People all over the crowd shouted out at the Caped Crusader.

"STRANGLE THAT SICK BASTARD BATMAN!"

"Hey Bats!"

"SCREW HUB CITY! THIS IS THE PLACE TO BE!"

"Sign an autograph?"

"JESUS CHRIST TOMMY! IT'S THE GODDAMN BATMAN!"

"What happened to your leg? You ok man?"

"HE DOESN'T MESS AROUND LIKE THAT METROPOLIS BOYSCOUT!"

Batman's tight lips curled at this last comment, but he continued to ignore their loud questions and paced solidly past the excited crowd assembled around the shielded Batmobile. His face set into a serious expression as he moved through them, most of the people stepped out of his way immediately.

One dark haired reporter approached him as he passed by, trying to shove his mike close to Batman's face. The familiar man's smooth face grinned back widely.

"Batman, Jack Ryder of Gotham City news, you know me. Sure you do. Do you have anything to say to the viewers? Everyone is relieved to see you've contained the breakout at Arkham. What do you-

Batman however, ignored Jack and continued on to the front of the building, passing the horde of people. A pair of men, nearing middle age, who looked as if they didn't belong stood amongst the bunches of reporters. One of them, was a distantly familiar looking blonde haired man. A long cigarette dangled from his lips, and he wore a a dirty tan trench-coat that could rival the state of Crane's. It's belt had been tied up, and he was pointing out his index finger as Batman's shadow neared them.

"Not fuckin bad, Squire", the blonde man commented to the silently passing Batman. His English accent was dripping with condescending amusement. "Kicked the fucker's soddin arse, that's for sure".

The silent Dark Knight inclined his his head almost imperceptibly, making a split second's moment of eye contact with the man he'd seen before.

The other man turned to his foul mouthed compatriot and shook his head tiredly.

"I do wish you'd tone down the language John", He sighed exasperatedly. He too was an Englishman. The stubble faced blonde man glanced sideways at him, taking a drag from his cigarette. "It really isn't needed at a time like this".

"Hey, you're the one who dragged me to this fuckin city, Chas", John replied brusquely, blowing out smoke into the other man's face and taking another long drag. The glowing tip brightened. His friend started to cough raggedly. "Still not sure why you think this is much an improvement. Give me England any day".

"We... don't get out... of London... enough-

"Bullocks mate. Least I know where I'm goin in London".

Their arguing vanished amongst other, far louder voices. Batman moved past the crowd and into the parking lot, the police officers he passed would all turn to face him. Their eyes widened as they watched the Creature of the Night move through the stream of light flashing cruisers, news vans parked close to the lot and ambulances.

Upon reaching the police barricades, the officers at the scene instantly opened them for the vigilante, who stepped through with his prisoner.

"Holy shit!", one of them shouted. "He caught the murdering bastard!"

"He got the Scarecrow!", another called after Batman. "Hey Commissioner, take a look!"

The Dark Knight continued to ignore them. The officer's moved out of his way to clear him a path right through them until he came to a group of police cruisers parked together in a shielded formation. Behind this formation stood a middle height white haired man with a mustache, wearing a long trench coat and hat.  
A large bullhorn was held loosely at the man's side and multiple blue uniformed Gotham officers stood next to him. The coated figure whirled around from facing the building upon hearing all the excited shouts and spotted the sight for himself.

Commissioner James W. Gordon handed off the horn to one of the male officer's.

"Hold that for a minute, Merkel".

The Commissioner smiled kindly as he watched Batman calmly dragging the handcuffed Crane over. The towering shadow came to a stop in front of himself and several other officers.

"There you are. Thank you for saving the day, Batman", Jim said, breathing a sigh of relief. He stared down at Crane's slumped head and scowled. The eyes behind his glasses hovered over the deep, bloody scratch wounds all over the doctors chest under the coat. His gaze moved up to the madman's torn open cheek.

"That crazy under your arm murdered and mutilated several of my men, wounded my Lieutenant and poisoned a few others with those fear toxins of his... they're still screaming back there in the ambulances. I'm going to have a hell of a job explaining this to all their family's. It's good to see he's this wounded at least... he earned it".

Unexpectedly, Crane swung his bloody face up weakly and locked his broken lens covered eyes onto the Commissioners intact ones.

"What's the matter, Gordon?", Crane whispered weakly, now smiling. The blood trickling lightly out of his shattered, misshapen nose had slowed slightly. His cheek was another story. "Afraid of what your police cannot control?"

"A stay in the Asylum should do you some good, Crane", Gordon snapped back. "With you locked away with the others, the city will be much safer. I'll make sure you don't escape again ad pollute this city with your presence".

Crane let out a painful, coughing laugh, blood dripping down his lips.

"I know your deepest fears, Commissioner... its stench covers the air around us like smog... not just your fear, all of you...the fear that rolls off this city is rising thanks to us freaks... and I intend to drown you all in your own worst nightmares", Crane replied vengefully. His eyes took on a muddy, obsessive, frightening stare. A look of a person completely over the edge.

"Even worse things are prepared to happen to you then Joker shooting your beloved wife and daughter... how is the dear girl? I hear she fared better then your wife at his hands...if only by a smidgen. I bet she has a little trouble going for evening strolls, nowadays... I daresay this city needs more accessibility for it's... impaired..."

Batman's eyes narrowed darkly ever so slightly at these words, but instantly went back to normal before anyone could even see.

Gordon's face darkened furiously and his fists balled up tensely, incensed to strike the son of a bitch right in his already shattered nose. How dare this disgusting creature even mention Sarah and Barbara, along with such casual contempt? After a few seconds, he unclenched his hands and breathed. The scum looked like he'd gotten ran over by a truck already, and there was no sense getting angry over a stupid insult. He'd be playing right into the bastard's sick little games.

"You'll get what's coming to you one day, Crane", Gordon muttered, his tone growing grim. The white mustache twitched once. "If you continue at this disgusting rate with the others at Arkham"

"We'll all get it, Gordon", the ragged man replied darkly. "Just wait and see".

"Not if I have anything to say about-

Batman ignored the tense conversation between the handcuffed super villain and the commissioner. He reached into his bright utility belt and produced a small, sealed vial of clear, glowing and bubbling liquid. His gloved hand passed it over to the Commissioner. Crane meanwhile, slumped his soaking wet head down again.

"I've synthesized a cure to the toxins you can use, Jim", Batman's low voice informed Gordon, cutting him off.

"The hell you have", Doctor Crane muttered painfully. His gloved hands clenched, and another shot up pain went through his arm. "That toxin is extra potent"

"An extra potent cure, Crane. You aren't the only one with scientific knowledge".

Crane cursed darkly under his breath in disagreement.

As Gordon examined the vial, a pair of detective's approached the group around the cars, coming to a stop beside the commissioner. One was an overweight man in a dark coat and hat, possessing a mean looking face. Clenched between his teeth sat a cigar, smoke trailing away from it's glowing red tip. The other was a dark haired woman in a raincoat, who glared with annoyance as the smoke from the man's cigar traveled into her face.

Detective Harvey Bullock scowled at the Dark Knight bitterly, both hands tucked away in his pant pockets.

"Where the hell were you?", he snapped, getting up in Batman's cowled face. He jabbed the front of Batman's massive armored chest with a fat index finger, narrowly missing the slash wound across it.

"Our guys were getting slaughtered by this freak and you show up late afterward, acting like you saved the day or something. You're no better then the rest of these costumed weirdos!"

Batman didn't reply to the rude detective, but Gordon did. Loudly.

"He was going after the other two escapees, detective!", Gordon defended objectively. "He caught them too! No one can be everywhere at one time!".

Bullock snorted derisively, drawing a series of resentful looks from the rest of the gathered officers including detective Montoya at his side.

"More likely he was off lazing about... you murderous self righteous vigilantes act like you run the world. Let me tell you something nutcase, at the end of the day it's the hard working police who get things done around here...got it?".

Again, Batman said nothing. He merely stared back at the accusing officer, his eyes still serious. Suddenly they flashed brightly, turning into sinister glowing white slits that narrowed. Bullock's own eyes bulged, he stepped back away from the creature of the night quickly, uttering a faint gasp of surprise.

"What-

The police officers around them roared with laughter at the detective as Batman turned the glowing lenses back off, then on again. Even Crane was forced to snicker coldly through his immense pain. A faint look of amusement seemed to touch the Dark Knight's lower face and white eyes.  
Bullock glared angrily at all the laughing officers, then rounded back on the silent knight, biting down harder on his cigar. He started to move forward again, hands clenched into fists.

"You lousy psychotic son of a-

"Bullock, Montoya, get this toxin cure to the paramedics on the double", Gordon interrupted, himself chuckling slightly as he stepped over, laying a hand on Bullock's shoulder. He passed over the vial to the detective. "We have to get those men fixed up before their minds are permanently affected".

_Too late, _Crane thought with a twisted smile. _There's no way that cure will work...they've been without it for far too long. There's no way.  
_

"I...but...-

"Now".

"Alright, fine Commish", replied the man bitterly. He shot a final dirty look at Batman, turned on his heel and stomped away quickly towards the paramedics. Montoya followed after him, but slower, still laughing at his expense.

She glanced back over her shoulder and smiled at the vigilante sympathetically, in an effort to negate the rudeness and ingratitude of her fellow detective.

"You did a great job tonight Batman. It's inspiring to the rest of the force", she called back, before turning her face away.

Jim Gordon turned back towards Batman and waved a hand in the fat detective's retreating direction.

"She's right. Never mind Bullock... you did a damn good job. Thanks again for your assistance on this one... I know you had a lot to do. It's a good thing that car of yours is so fast", Gordon commented with a smile. He gestured to the officers standing behind himself "We can take Crane from here, we'll get him back up to Arkham right away. You look like you should take the night off and go relax".

Batman shook his head slightly at Gordon. He turned around, away from the Commissioner and his officers and started to drag the handcuffed villain away.

"I'll take him myself", the Dark Knight replied evenly, not even glancing over his shoulder. "I have business at Arkham tonight anyways".

"Business? This late at night?", Gordon called confusedly after the retreating black figure moving away from the barricade. "What is it?"

Batman ignored this, pretending to be out of earshot and unable to hear Gordon's question.

A young, brunette haired female officer, who had been gazing at Batman intently since his arrival leaned towards Gordon. Without taking her bright eyes off the vigilante now passing a police car, moving down towards the crowd again, she spoke.

"He doesn't talk much...does he commissioner?", She whispered excitedly. "I haven't seen him in person until now... he's just as amazing as the papers say! There's a kind of aura of comfort you can feel around him...something like it".

Gordon smiled to himself at this glowing outburst from the young officer. He'd seen many women over the years have similar reactions to being in the vigilante's presence, including his own Barbara. He probably did have an aura that drew women to him without even trying to do so.

"He doesn't need to", the commissioner replied, turning back over to his officers standing next to the police cruiser. "He seems to get his points across pretty easily without saying too much."

* * *

Batman, dragged the limp Scarecrow ever forward. He neared the noisy, rain soaked crowd gathered around the locked down Batmobile. The tall figure walked solidly through the moving human wave as a pack of reporters attempted to get answers out of him.

"Hey Batman! Come on man, gimme a scoop!", one shouted, holding out his microphone. "My career needs this!"

"Just a quote would be fine! Give me a break, you answered a few questions for Vicki Vale three years ago!", another complained. roughly

"How goes your work on the League?", a female reporter's inquisitive voice called. "I heard last week that-

A large group of giggling young women now following Batman closely tried tugging on the corners of his sweeping black cape gently, or ran their hands over his broad shoulder to get his attention, carefully avoiding the bloody figure he was dragging with him. It didn't seem to work much, as he easily pulled the cape from their grips as he moved solidly through the giant crowd.

"Hey Bats! You're like, my hero!", one girl declared excitedly, running up in front of him, holding out a pen and a notebook. Batman was forced to stop moving.

She looked no more then ten, and wore a pair of green tinted glasses with huge black frames that were probably a style among the kids these days. Her wet red hair was short in the back, but had a large bunch protruding out the front of her head in an unusual fashion. Close beside her stood a stun faced, dark haired friend, who was taller then her and much bonier, holding a large umbrella over them to shield against the down pouring rain.

"My name is Carrie! Carrie K. Could you please sign me an autograph?"

"Forget that, you teeny bopper!", a woman who appeared in her early twenties in front of Batman replied to Carrie, pushing the girl aside.

Carrie fell down hard on the pavement at several people's feet, uttering a pained gasp. She scowled up to the woman as her friend helped her back up slowly.

The woman actually walked up to the vigilante then. Coming to a stop within a few inches, She traced her hands up the front of his massively muscular chest, passing over the yellow oval of the bat symbol.

The woman batted her dark eyelashes, placed the hand not exploring his suit onto her hip and smiled seductively at the Dark Knight. Behind her, visible to Batman, Carrie was adjusting her green glasses and looking a bit disappointed and annoyed. She was rubbing her side painfully.

"How about you sign my chest Batman? I'm sure that's more appealing then a paper autograph"

The Caped Crusader wasn't moved. The glowing white slits of his eyes narrowed.

Doctor Crane smirked to himself, his bloody face still staring down at the pavement. Everyone seemed to love the crazy little bat. He hadn't the energy to lift his head again and see all the other fans, but he could get the gist from their comments.

"Fan club...little bat?", Crane asked painfully. He knew his quiet voice couldn't be heard over the noisy crowd, however.

Batman gently removed the hand from his chest and simply brushed past the seductive woman smiling lewdly and came to a stop again directly in front of young Carrie, continuing to ignore the onlookers, rabble and fans. He towered over her, cape fluttering in the wind like a phantasm. Carrie took in a deep breath as she stared up at his stubble covered lower face set in it's grim expression, jaw firm. His glowing white and serious eyes looked like they could have cut right through a steel bar with no effort.

"Batman! What are your concerns on-

He unexpectedly dropped Scarecrow's mask down on the pavement below his boots, where it landed with a splash in a puddle, and extended out a massive gauntlet covered right hand for the pen. Carrie's mouth gaped wide open in dumbed shock as she lay the pen in his glove and shakily extended the notepad for him to sign.

Carefully, the Dark Knight scribbled several words down on the front page before giving the girl back her pen wordlessly. Eagerly, the girl peered down at the paper to see what her hero had written for her, grinning widely:

_**Carrie.**_

_**Nice to meet you.  
**__**  
I'm Batman.**_

The girl quickly looked back up from the autograph, but her dark hero was no longer standing before her. Neither was the wounded villain or the mask that had been sitting in the puddle. She turned around quickly enough to see the back of Batman's massive black cape pushing through the rest of the crowd. The hideous mask was back in the hand that had held the pen, while in the other he continued to drag the thin, raggedy man.

The girl turned to her equally stunned best friend holding their umbrella and let out an ecstatic scream. A note of pure jubilation rang into the night.

"OH MY GOD MI CHELLE! I GOT HIS AUTOGRAPH! LIKE, I DON'T THINK HE'S EVER SIGNED ONE! THANK YOU BATMAN!"

His head still slumped forward, Crane laughed, this time loud enough for Batman to hear.

"How disgustingly touching, Little Bat", Crane mocked weakly.

Batman said nothing, not even glancing back. His glowing eyes narrowed.

The seductive woman Batman had walked around pouted with disappointment as he left. Batman's action's, however, didn't discourage any of the other women from following in the least. If anything it just made them more eager. The Dark Knight finally came to a stop on the pavement in front of the vehicle.

Over the flashing lights of cameras going off, he reached under his cape and into the bright utility belt. Batman dug out a small dark object from one of the pouches, raised it to his mouth and clicked the button on it's side. He spoke two words in his usual low, serious tone.

"Shields Open".

There were several audible gasps by people touching the sleek car as the armor began retracting back, producing loud clicking and whining noises. Everyone in the crowd took a few steps away to give it room as it began to reconfigure and pulled back their eager hands.  
They watched excitedly as the armored panels pealed back from the tinted windows, massive tires and the rest of the long car, folding down and disappearing underneath the Batmobile out of sight. What lay underneath the vehicle's shield mode was finally revealed to the excited onlookers who hadn't been there when it had first arrived.

Tinted black windows seemed to wrap around the roof covered section sitting in the center of the car. A huge armored turbine sitting close to the front, directly behind the Batmobile's battering ram looked as though it could easily belong to a jet plane. The large afterburner sitting on the back of the sleek, low to the ground vehicle was equally massive and impressive to behold.  
It sat between two risen sections on either side of it that poked upwards and behind the vehicle, shaped oddly like a pair of stretched out black wings or fins. Underneath each of these wings sat a pair of small, circular red bumper lights, which were currently turned off.

The Caped Crusader pressed another flashing button on the side of the device. The engine revved loudly as the car started up, cutting through the entire crowd, it's echo deafening. The blinding front headlights flashed on, illuminating everyone in front of the car. On the bat head shaped battering ram, the pair of long dark slits flickered on with the engine and glowed white like a pair of grim demons eyes, scowling into the night that lay ahead of it. The buzz of the crowd grew louder to match the car as people moves out of it's way to give the vehicle a clear path.

Several of the ladies giggling around Batman ran over to his car, surrounding it. Their eyes bulged at seeing such a magnificent car before them. One young woman in soaking wet pajamas and light blue dyed hair stood at the back with a few other giggling girls, running her hand over one of the wing shaped protrusions. She cocked a playful eye to the Batman and winked.

"Hey tall dark and handsome, why don't you take me for a ride?", She called loudly over the crowd. The woman played with the strands of her long wet hair absentmindedly. "I'm properly dressed up already for a sleepover, and I know first aid for those nasty gashes of yours".

Still ignoring all the comments, whistles, giggling and advances, Batman pressed one last button on the device before tucking it away in his utility belt again. The armored roofed section sitting in the center of the car started to slide forward towards the front and came to a stop, revealing the black interior of the car. Small, high tech computers, bright flashing buttons and glowing monitors littered the interior of the car in front of the two seats.

Batman walked around to the passenger side, lifted the handcuffed villain up easily and dropped him down into the seat. Crane's head buckled and fell back against the dark head-rest painfully.

That was all it took.

The searing pain rippling through his whole body soon became too much to handle, combined with the unceasing noise and light filling the whole district and making his head spin like he was on a roller coaster. Before he knew what was happening, the darkness seemed to open up it's gaping maw and swallow his mind. He welcomed the escape from the tormented thoughts, feelings and pain.

Doctor Crane lost consciousness, his sweat and rain streaked head slumping to the side.

* * *

**There you go :D Batman moving though a horde of people. I'll give those of you who spotted a few familiar characters and Easter eggs in the crowd extra props. A hint, not all of them are necessarily Batman characters, but are DC related nonetheless. Getting closer to Arkham now people ;). Thanks for reading, any reviews, ideas, comments or encouragements greatly appreciated.**


	9. Chapter 9: Homeward Bound

**Highland girl 1592: I'm sorry to hear you don't like my Batman. For starters, I respect the idea of the no killing Batman, this was best exemplified in the animated series. It's a good portrayal of the character. I respect your ideas, however, I disagree with some of your logic. Who's to say that someone who's witnessed their parents killed would never take a life? Killing is not necessarily an ineffective solution to fighting crime. It could be argued that throwing criminals into the revolving door of the prison system is ineffective as well. The pitfalls of the no kill Batman were well shown in The Dark Knight, because people weren't afraid of Batman for having rules. I believe in the idea that Batman would take life if he deemed it necessary, and criminals would be more afraid of him, not knowing if he will kill them or not. My Batman basis is elements of almost all Batman's really. My Batman is not going to walk down a street of crooks and murder every one of them, nor would he use a pistol to kill people. Scarecrow stated in my story that Batman kills a lot, but its not necessarily complete fact. He's heard rumors, rumors mutate. I'm including the fact that Batman does appreciate human life, and has a human side, as I've written in another story you'll see soon. However, the Golden Age Batman, Frank Miller Batman and the Michael Keaton Batman were the main inspirations for my character. Furthermore, there are plenty of authors already who have written the no kill Batman, I'm simply one of the few who wants to do something else. Anyways, this is a Scarecrow story, not a Batman story...so you'll see lol. Thank you for your review :), and that is a good guess.**

**Athulis: Thank you for the review! glad you liked it :). It's reassuring to hear I'm writing Batman in character, it's very important to get him right. You indeed spotted a couple of the Easter eggs xD good eye lol.**

**Leonca: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it, and I really appreciate the editing of my mistakes :), ill try to work on that lol.**

**Hush 2.0****: Thank you for the review. Your interest in the story is much appreciated and thanks for showing that. I'm flattered you like my vision so much. I haven't forgotten about this story by any means, it's already completed in fact, I've just been working hard at other stories too, so sometimes I forget to update. Don't worry, you'll get the whole story :).**

**Well, we've roughly passed the halfway mark to this story, but there's more character interaction to come. I hope I will be able to satisfy those of you out there who like this story :), anyways, here you go. Sorry it's a shorter chapter, but it's leading on to better and longer things. Stick around and you'll see ;).  
**

* * *

Wordlessly, Batman stepped up onto the Batmobile's hood and everyone seemed to go wild. Everybody in the ever growing crowd turned their eyes on him, craning their necks as they watched him step down into the drivers seat and settle himself in.

The Dark Knight placed Scarecrow's mask between the seats, then glanced sideways to the unconscious, handcuffed doctor slumped forward in the passenger seat. Crane looked like a disheveled mess. His torn open cheek was pressed against one of the forward panels, but thankfully none of the buttons. His long gangly legs had slackened Batman reached over a hand to Crane's neck, feeling that there was indeed a strong, steady heartbeat. He'd be conscious again soon enough.

Probably.

Batman pushed him backwards into the seat, leaving a bloodstain behind on a dashboard monitor. Crane's head lolled like a drunk who couldn't discern his surroundings.

"BATMAN! I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES!", an unknown woman screeched from somewhere directly behind the Batmobile. A loud rippling of laughter washed over the crowd at this.

The creature of the night gripped the wheel tightly with both hands then started to reach for a panel of buttons. His gauntlet covered hand paused in mid air for a moment as if considering something. Slowly he stood back up again, inside the car, turning around to face the group of ladies gathered around the back of the car. He stared downwards at them piercingly from behind his cowl, the glowing white slits holding them in a hypnotic fashion.

The young women moved close together, blushing and staring back up at the wide shouldered night creature breathlessly.

"I don't recommend standing in front of the exhaust", he informed them simply, motioning a gloved hand down to the massive exhaust port in front of them.

With that, he dropped back down in his seat, settled himself in comfortably and buckled up his seat belt. Batman flicked a switch up and pressed the blinking red button beside the dark steering wheel. The roof started to slide back over his and Crane's heads as Batman revved the engine. The women moved away from the Batmobile to give it room, and erupted into joyful squeals amongst themselves.

"DID YOU SEE THAT? HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!"

"Oh nice one..."I want to have your babies? Yesh...-

"Hey, so would you!"

"Of course, but you don't just-

"HE WAS TALKING TO ME!"

The excited comments and piercing noises from the entire crowd was welcomingly quieted to Batman's ears as the roof section slammed back into place over his head and locked securely with multiple loud clicks. Only faint sounds of chatter could be heard through the Batmobile's thick armor. Through the windows, several reporters snapped away excitedly as their cameramen rolled footage.

Eye's narrowing, Batman grabbed the dark throttle poking up from the floor right next to the steering wheel and pulled it backwards. Gripping the wheel in both hands, he pressed his armored boot down on the gas pedal. The car shot forward on the pavement, large dark tires screeching excitedly as it accelerated like a race car. A huge red and yellow jet of flame shot out the back afterburner as it tore out of the ecstatic crowd, picking up speed as it carried the occupants away.

After only a few moments, the sleek Batmobile had flown down the length of the rain drenched street. It spun hard around the corner of the building opposite the apartment complex, fire and smoke still trailing behind it as it glided over the pavement. The vehicle left the mob of people behind and was soon out of sight, moving to it's intended destination.

* * *

It had been a lengthy trip getting all the way across the city and to the island across the main bridge from Gotham, in addition to the numerous armed checkpoints, but they had finally arrived at their destination. About that time, Crane's wounded body started to stir. A stab of pain shot though the length of system as his body caught up with his mind, and he uttered an instinctive hiss, eyes still forced closed. He could feel the familiarly heavy, wet coat still wrapped around his pained shoulders, along with the slipping glasses on his nose.

The pain, aching and memory of the prior events hit him all at once from everywhere. Chest, forearm, his thin, sallow face, bony shoulder.

_Where..._

Crane slowly raised his head, and as he did so, he felt the glasses slip back down on the bridge of his nose. His eyes opened, peering through the cracked lenses. He had regained consciousness in time to see the Batmobile speeding towards the familiar high iron gate between a pair of stone pillars at the front of Arkham Asylum. His head felt better. The pain hadn't gone away from his body in the slightest, but he felt certain he could move a little.

Right then and there, her beautiful, ghostly pale, masked face shot out into the center of his mind from nowhere. A cold helpless bitterness overtook him in a tidal wave of confusion and self shame. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the image. It did nothing, if anything, it made her much clearer. That playful taunting smile playing on her lips. The image opened it's mouth in an attempt to talk.

Before her voice could seep in through his ears and taunt him, Crane gritted his teeth and drove it away with massive effort. Stars seemed to explode in his head as he succeeded, and he forced himself to refocus his attention elsewhere. Thankfully the sensation and weight resting on his wrists provided this welcome distraction.

He knew he was staving off the inevitable time he would have to think about it.

_She isn't going anywhere...I don't think.  
_

The doctor glanced down at cold black Batcuffs locked firmly around his joined wrists then moved his eyes up to all the blinking monitors. He'd left behind a dry bloodstain on one of them, apparently. Crane looked sideways to the drivers seat.

The Dark Knight sat stiffly upright at the wheel, his stubble covered face scowling determinedly on the road ahead. His jaw was tightened firmly as ever. Suddenly he reached his blood covered, injured hand over to the throttle and cranked it back. The doctor was thrown forward, smashing his forehead against the window and falling back against the seat as the vehicle accelerated faster. He growled and rubbed his already injured face painfully.

"Welcome back doctor", Batman greeted quietly. He didn't take his serious eyes off the road.

_**Welcome back Doctor, **_the voice hidden away in his mind echoed to Crane mockingly, no more then a whisper.

Crane ignored the other, with difficulty, forcing himself to speak. It hurt him to no end to move his lips, which sent rippling pain shooting through his jaw._**  
**_  
"Haven't run us off the road or anything, Little Bat?", Crane asked coldly. "It wouldn't be the first time you've crashed these things...how many 'Batmobile's' have you gone through by now?

The huge black figure behind the wheel didn't answer, not hearing the raggedy figure. Crane snickered darkly and turned back towards the tinted, bulletproof wraparound window.  
_  
Home sweet home_, Crane thought to himself bitterly. They passed underneath the massive cast iron sign hanging over the road to the asylum. Despite the poor visibility the weather provided, he could make out the words:

_**Arkham Asylum: Home For The Emotionally Disturbed**_

Crane had no idea why Sharpe had replaced the original words 'Criminally Insane' with 'Emotionally Disturbed'. It had to be some kind of public representation thing to improve his image like everything else he did. If someone bothered to visit the asylum, they'd easily see how much more accurate the original words had been.

Crane had never liked the idea of people tampering with logic, history and unarguable facts, which was exactly what Sharpe had been doing with the change, to benefit his own overinflated ego like the plagiarist and coward he was. It felt like an attempt to rewrite what was happening in the city. Just the idea of it made Crane clenched his teeth, wondering to himself what the good warden would look like hanging upside down by his feet in a sewer, with razor wire wrapped around his blood soaked elderly body...after breaking his mind with fear first, of course. The wonderful thought made him break out into a satisfied smile.

_Don't soften the words...'emotionally distressed...' call us what we are dammit...call us what..._  
_**  
**_Peering through the bulletproof window, he spotted it far away, sitting up there in the distance. He ended his angry intensified thoughts at once. They could wait until later.

The massive Asylum looked truly monstrous in the night sky. Fog had started to rise around the damp, concrete and stone slab covered building, making the effect more dramatic. It loomed over the surrounding valleys in the distance like a castle over its keep. Crane had to admit that it did look a lot more like a castle then a hospital. Over the years the asylum had been built up to contain it's ever growing lunatic population steadily climbing.

The doctor had seen the photos of the place way back when it's founder, Jeremiah Arkham, had first had it built. It barely held any resemblance to the old building anymore. The faint glow illuminating from the various windows grew ever brighter through the fog as the Batmobile sped closer, passing the dark shrubs and trees sitting on either side of the road.

The Batmobile tore up the long winding path, turning every so often on the paved road. Before long, it began to slow as it neared the building. Batman guided the long vehicle through a large parking lot, past it, around a few parked vehicles belonging to the staff and up towards the Asylum. The massive vehicle came to a sudden hard stop at the side of the muddy road in front of the giant main double doors.

Batman shifted the throttle again and tapped several bright buttons on the panels. The computers and flashing lights blinked off as the engine stopped suddenly. He unclipped his seat belt and suddenly paused for a few moments.

To Crane's surprise, the hood of the car hadn't slid forward yet. He turned over and noticed what had happened.

Batman's glowing eyes merely stared out the window. His lower face was still set seriously. The eyes beneath the cowl, seemed as if he was apparently lost in deep thought.

Before Crane could say anything, Batman had turned and dug into a compartment beside his seat, producing yet another glass vial of liquid, along with a long medical syringe. This vial had a bluish green tint to it and a glow like Crane's fear toxins had. Crane watched confusedly as The Dark Knight took off the Vial's top and placed the needle inside.

He drew the plunger back slowly, and the liquid leaked into the needle. The vial emptied and the needle was now filled halfway. Batman carefully checked the needle, then reached over to the long gauntlet covering most of his left arm. After placing it in his lap, he raised the needle over his exposed, large muscular forearm, clenching his slightly injured hand into a fist, injury courtesy of the scythe.

"Have you been getting addicted to Venom or something, Little Bat? Is that how you keep up your strength?", Crane asked mockingly. In his mind, however, Crane's curiosity was piqued. He'd seen Venom first hand, and this liquid before him certainly wasn't it. "Bane must have pushed you the wrong way after that painful little incident between you".

Batman said nothing. He carefully plunged the needle into his arm and began pushing down the plunger slowly, taking his time. The bright liquid slowly disappeared down the syringe and into Batman's system.

"Tell me, what is it really?", Crane asked, his eyes narrowing on the needle. Curiosity had always been one of Crane's major traits. The more he knew, the more he could use against others. "What the devil are you doing that for?"

Batman pushed the last drop into his veins and retracted the needle back out.

"A temporary inoculation", His low voice finally answered. He placed the needle and vial back into the compartment carefully and pulled the dark unyielding gauntlet back over his wide, exposed forearm. Batman flexed his hand into a fist again, then released it slowly.

"Against what?", the doctor asked, becoming slightly annoyed. Despite this, he couldn't help but be amused "Would this be another of your paranoid little endeavors? One of those 'Just in case' precautions against a threat?"

Crane laughed mockingly at the thought, and it was worth the agony in his gut of doing so. The Little Bat was possibly more paranoid than himself.

Batman turned his head towards the doctor, the glowing white slits of his eyes penetrating the doctor like an x-ray. Again, he didn't speak a single word to Crane. Instead he reached down in-between the seats and picked up the large, tattered Scarecrow mask in one hand. With the other, he flicked a switch in front of the wheel and the roof section slid forward down the hood of the long car.  
Rain poured down on the pair of costumed men again as the much larger of the two stood up in his seat and grabbed the other, pulling him upright to his flat soled feet. Pain rippled through the doctors mid section and he clenched his teeth down tightly. This action in turn send a slamming wave of agony through his torn right cheek.

"I can move on my own again, Little Bat", Crane muttered angrily, trying to shake off Batman's grip. The Dark Knight obliged, loosening his grip ever so slightly.

"Next time perhaps you should try to do a better job at disabling me..."

The doctor climbed painfully out of the vehicle, over the hood and down to the muddy puddle by the drivers seat. Crane turned away and stared up the long cement stairs leading up the hill towards the main doors. The coldness returned, swimming over his exposed, wounded, nearly emaciated stomach. In a seconds his clammy stomach was soaked again from the patter of rain. Through sheer effort, he didn't allow himself to shiver. To show weakness.

It wouldn't be much further now, but in his condition each step felt almost as bad as a knife slamming into his gut. And he should know how that felt.

_Minor internal bleeding, undoubtedly. A trip to the infirmary may be in order.  
_

Batman climbed out after him, still holding the bizarre scarecrow mask in one hand as he stood beside the Batmobile. With the other hand, he reached into his utility belt and removed the small black device again. Pressing down one of the buttons, he spoke a single command into it, before tucking it back out of sight.

"Shields".

There was loud clicking and whirring as the sleek armor panels obeyed their command, instantly shooting up from underneath the car. The roof section slid back into place as the armor started wrapping carefully around it. After a few moments, the cocooned Batmobile sat locked up beside the road safely, the sound of raindrops bouncing lightly against the smooth armored plates.

Batman whirled around, his slightly torn cape billowing behind him in the fiercely howling wind. He grabbed Crane by the back of his dirty, soaking wet duster. This time, however, Crane was able to walk slowly rather then being dragged the whole way. Batman silently pointed a large gauntleted hand towards the steps leading to the Asylum.

"Move".

"Of course my paranoid fellow...there are few other alternatives available...clearly".

_Here I come, Warden_, Crane thought to himself bitterly as he climbed the first step, a shot of soreness echoing through both gangly legs. He stepped up to the next, and soon, he could block out the unpleasant sensation. _I'm sure you can't wait to see me again... your guards too, for that matter._

_At least I can see the rest of the good old gang again.  
_

The thought of seeing them again filling him with a strange mixture of anxiety and content. He was right at home with them...but at the same time, Arkham Asylum was hardly a good place to call home._  
_

Over another flash of white lightening, Batman moved carefully with his prisoner over the tall steps. They ascended up the looming hill through the dark, rainy and foggy night like a pair of ghostly apparitions, moving towards the stationary pole lights sitting on either side of the massive main entrance.

The lights illuminated their completely contrasting outlines. One a titanic shadow person, moving with purpose, and the other, a gangly shuffling skeleton.

* * *

**Time for Arkham people ;). Thanks for reading, any reviews much appreciated :D. Next chapter is on the way.  
**


	10. Chapter 10: Arkham Again

**Anarchy: You raise a good question...will they have a happy ending? I have a few idea's flowing around in my head...I don't plan to make it some kind of ordinary, typical happy Hollywood ending...they aren't realistic. However, hopefully, I won't disappoint the readers with my ideas.**

**My prior chapter wasn't too great lol, rather short, more of a bridging chapter, but hopefully I can make up for that from here with longer, better chapters. And so, we finally get to Arkham, lol. I had a lot of fun for this part, scanning the comics, animated series, the Arkham Asylum game, etc, and writing the infamous place. I hope you will enjoy this chapter. **

Apologies that its taken awhile, just started writing another story, plus I edited the hell out of this chapter xD took my time.

**I've also written up my notes and comments on the long chapter at the end. Anyways, here you go people, enjoy:**

* * *

_**Arkham Asylum**_

An oddly comforting warmth fell upon Crane as he walked stiffly inside, momentarily robbing him of the unpleasantness of his staggering pain. It came back with a vengeance at the doctors next sights. His dark, humorless corneas adjusted themselves to the bright greeting room was the giant fireplace against the wall, flames leaping up from several logs, dancing and crackling. The second sight as he turned his neck, was of a man whom he and countless other inmates and patients knew and hated. His pupils narrowed together instantly with distaste.

_They really shouldn't permit vermin in the main lobby...it's hardly sanitary.  
_

Standing in front of the visibly empty receptionist's desk was none other than the Warden himself, Quincy Sharpe in his usual black suit, leaning on his cane. He was flanked by at least a half dozen heavily armed and armored guards. Each pair of eyes beneath their dark metal helmets, and accompanying assault rifle, was pointed squarely in Crane's direction as if expecting him to jump at them. It was the welcome he and the others had grown accustomed to at the asylum. He sensed the fear rolling over their bodies and it nearly made him laugh.

_A single wrong move and they'd cut me to ribbons...they'd just love that._.._the fragility of their minds...such a pity to disappoint them.  
_

There was a loud slam that echoed throughout the greeting room as the Dark Knight closed the giant double doors behind himself. In an instant the icy wind at Crane's back vanished in to nothingness. The huge armor covered black figure in the sweeping cape with five claw marks running through it, walked back over to Scarecrow, and moved him casually across the floor towards the Warden, the villains grinning mask still clenched in one hand. The cloak, now free from the wind, rustled slightly as it trailed over the ground behind his boots. He had flicked off the white glow of his lens covered eyes again, the pupils, suspended in a sea of darkness, narrowed.

To anyone who dared themselves to look into his eyes, they were momentarily taken, frightened, by the expression of his pupils. They radiated a sort of mixture electricity, privacy and isolation, seemingly summing up what was possibly a kind of loneliness around the edges, all in a single look. A deeply rooted yet unnaturally calm insanity. Many of the guards accordingly...and ironically, chose to focus their attention on the raggedy Scarecrow's black eyes instead, lest those unnatural, crazed eyes fixed themselves upon their own pupils and held them on the spot.

In many ways, they were more frightening and unpredictable then the glowing lenses themselves.

The steady smacking thump of his wet boots tapping against the hardwood floor echoed menacingly off the walls, seeming to grow louder with every step.

One of the assembled men in the room, not holding an assault rifle or standing beside the others, a tough faced African American guard with short hair, in a blue uniform and black tie, inclined his head to Batman. He motioned with the pointy prosthetic hook protruding from his left arm towards the wounded, bloody Scarecrow. It glistened in the light reflection of the fire, shining like a knife ready for the kill.

The Dark Knight nodded back respectfully to the veteran guard.

"Good work out there Batman", Arron Cash congratulated the vigilante appreciatively. His face took on a look of disgust and resentment at the villain for a moment. His eyes stopped on the torn open flesh of Crane's partially exposed, emaciated chest, and a hint of a smile formed.

"That damn Croc had to have been hard enough, but Two Face and this crazy too? Looks like you put them all through their paces".

Batman started to reply when Sharpe cleared his throat, stopped leaning on his cane and stepped over towards the costumed pair, his other guards moving with him. His stern eyes narrowed disgustedly behind his horn rimmed glasses as they stared at the blood soaked, heavily wounded villain before him. The rain had prevented the blood from growing sticky, but that would change fairly soon in this temperature.

"Yes, yes, good work Batman, we were expecting you after hearing the reports from the Gotham PD'", Sharpe commented. His booming voice carried through the room. It had a tinge of disgust to match his expression and his eyes remained on Scarecrow.  
"Three of our most difficult patients caught in the course of one night... you've done a marvelous job for the asylum. We'll need to intensify their treatments and increase the number of guards to make sure this incident doesn't repeat it's self again".

"It will happen again", The Batman replied seriously, not even glancing over at the soaked and bloody villain.

"I hear that", muttered Cash agreeably, shaking his head tiredly. "Don't know why this place doesn't have a gas chamber..."

Dark eyes glinting, Crane smiled maliciously back up at the warden, locking darkly humorless eyes with the older man who clung to his authority like a child to a toy.

"You look annoyed, Sharpe", Scarecrow rasped painfully. "Don't tell me the dead guards have hurt your public image... that would be such a shame. It must be a relief, however, to have the Little Bat here to catch us when we misbehave. It allows you to take credit for everything you haven't accomplished. I saw your lovely little news interview like everyone else in Gotham...or Metropolis for that matter. You must have spent hours applying all that makeup and the like...pity it doesn't hide the alarming rate at which you age or your over inflated sense of self righteousness".

Sharpe glared hard at Scarecrow's slashed open face and badly broken nose, ignoring the comment and barrage of insults. Crane looked visibly pleased with his own words, savoring the taste.

It was one of the few enjoyable things readily available in the asylum.

Unseen to everyone else, Batman's pupils appeared to consider Cranes words with a sort of respectful agreement. It was gone in a flash.

"Be a good patient Crane and maybe we can help you", He replied stiffly. "You were once a respectable doctor here, a university professor for gods sake, now another twisted freak like all the others. None of you seem to show much progress, do you?"

"Time, dear warden. Time will show you what we'll do to you", Scarecrow rasped. "Soon you'll be locked up here with us... if you are fortunate enough".

Sharpe gripped the smooth handle of his cane tightly and looked back over to his guards. They visibly stiffened, awaiting his command. He gestured to one standing closest to him, slightly in front of the others.

"Captain, get this filthy degenerate down to the medical infirmary in the lower left wing! Doctor Young is waiting for him in the floor's hall", Sharpe informed them. He turned back to Crane and smiled nastily. "We'll get him nice and patched up...that hole in his face won't fix it's self. I'd hate to see him die on us before we're done with him".

"It would be a travesty", Scarecrow agreed, not taking his glinting eyes off the warden. "I have so much more to accomplish before the luxury of death".

The stern faced captain nodded to a pair of the armored guards. Together they moved past the warden towards Crane. Before they could grab him, Batman stepped up next to the doctor and held up a gloved hand. The guards stopped in their tracks before the massive, unpredictable and likely unstable vigilante, and looked back over at the warden and captain for instructions, expressions slightly fearful.

Cash chuckled to himself. It had always been fun watching the effect Batman had on the rest of the guards. Even veterans seemed to shake in their boots at his presence.

"I'm taking him", Batman's low voice informed the older man. His serious, unnatural eyes seemed to burn right into Sharpe's, right through his glasses. "Doctor Young wished to speak with me."

Sharpe adjusted his horn rimmed glasses and motioned his guards to move to the side away from Batman's path. His stern old face took on a sudden look of wariness, looking even older then he already was and he blinked.

"Ah yes, I remember now. I was informed about that a couple days ago... that you'd be visiting again, but late this time. Very well... I'm sure you know your way around here by now, don't you?", Sharpe asked slowly. There was something almost accusatory and condescending to his voice.

Crane watched them with faint interest, his head turning back and forth between their faces. What they were speaking of, he still wasn't quite certain... it must have had to do with the injection Batman had given himself. He shook his head and looked down at the tiles on the floor, blinking.  
_  
It doesn't matter. I have my own problems to deal with. Lost work, traitorous...whores...  
_

The Batman's expression didn't change under the condescending look, nor did he take his pitiless, analytical eyes off the well dressed man before him.

"I don't get lost", Batman replied in serious tone.

"Well then, watch your step down there", Sharpe warned stiffly. He suddenly looked more uptight then usual. "Some of the prisoners are just going back to their cells now as we speak".

"At this hour?", The Batman asked, eyes narrowing.

Sharpe gripped his cane again and motioned down the hallway behind the desk. The hall, lined with metal doors and blue uniformed guards, led down the corridor. Around this corridor was the path to the main elevator.

"I'm afraid I don't have any more time to chat", He replied stiffly. Sharpe stepped out of the path of the pair. "I have to go to write my address to the public for the morning... I'll be in my office if you require something. You're free to roam the asylum now, I'll inform the guards of your presence here so you won't run into any unnecessary trouble."

"I appreciate it", Batman replied with a curt nod.

"Yes yes. Next time you're in here, I hope you bring that disgusting clown in with you", Sharpe replied, waving a hand. His tone had grown hateful at the very thought of the Joker. "The citizens would go wild to have him out of their hair much more then Crane here. His breakout was more of an embarrassment then this one."

"Be sure to break that horse face's jaw first, or he'll never stop talking", an enthusiastic young guard off to the side piped in. "You wouldn't believe how much he gabs...well...you probably would."

"You kidding man? If anything he'd just talk more!", another replied bitterly. "It's give him something to bitch about".

The Caped Crusader grabbed Scarecrow by the collar of his duster and continued on his way. They moved past the guards assembled in front of the receptionist's desk. Out of the corner of his eye, Batman spotted a white ornament, a plaque with dark lettering sitting upon the neatly organized desk.

_"You don't have to be crazy to work here- But it helps!_"

Batman's smirked darkly and continued on his way with the villain. As he passed by Cash standing next to the desk, the guard extended his remaining hand out to the Dark Knight, who stopped again. Batman extended a powerful gauntlet out and took the hand wordlessly, shaking it. Cash winced for a split second under the powerful grip, but quickly adjusted.

"Have a good one down there man", Cash muttered to him in a quiet, bemused voice so the others couldn't hear. A slight smirk formed on his face has the handshake slackened and fell apart. "Taking crazy risks like that...not really my thing. But this is you we're talking about, if anyone can pull it off...".

Batman said nothing at the respectful comment as Scarecrow continued to watch interestedly. Instead, he nodded slightly and grabbed Crane by the collar of his duster again, stepping past the veteran guard, who shook his head with mixed exasperation, envy and bemusement.

The Caped Crusader moved slowly down the hallway. Guards nodded every so often at Batman in acknowledgment as he passed, holding their weapons tighter as they spotted the raggedy Scarecrow that was with him on the path through the winding hallway.

Sharpe watched them leave and shook his bald head tiredly. The young but experienced captain turned away from the hall and stepped over to the warden, casting an appraising eye to the black suited older man.

"Why do you let that guy have his way around Arkham, warden?", The captain asked bitterly. He ran a hand through his dark crew-cut. "He belongs in a high security cell with the rest of his buddies here".

Sharpe scowled in annoyance, fixing the captain up with a hard glare.

"You just follow your damn orders Captain", he snapped tiredly. The captain's face hardened in response. "Leave the thinking to me won't you? That's why I'm in charge around here, to think for this place".

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed away from the openly resentful captain, towards his office right there on the main floor.

_Let that over-sized bat pay a visit to that... filthy... venomous skinned... 'woman'_, Sharpe thought disgustedly as he moved down the hall the masked man had already gone through. To say The Dark Knight had bizarre sexual preferences was an incalculable understatement. There were time's Sharpe almost mistook that he was running a brothel for him, rather then an asylum to contain Gotham's insanity.

_Prefers his women all the same... insane. Not that she's really a true woman anymore._ _Whatever the hell has become of her._ _I should order a lobotomy...or better yet, that her cell be lit on fire... a fate worthy of a witch..._

The warden, wrinkled hands trembling slightly, adjusted his glasses, rounding the next corner, forcing himself to remain in control. There were times he felt his barely contained hatred and revulsion breaking free and threatening to ruin everything. He had to remain in control, or the whole plan would go down the drains and the city would be helpless. He breathed, and slowly, his violent thoughts regarding the inmate slowly vanished.

_No matter, one disgusting criminal shall make little difference in the end_...

And so, another dreadfully uneventful night of writing speeches and planning lay ahead for the warden... but he knew it would eventually pay off in the end for both himself and the city. The good side of the city anyways. The costumed rabble would pay their dues soon enough.

Every single last one of them.

* * *

As the main elevator finally grinded to a halt on the left wing, the doors buzzed and sprung open in unison. Faint maniacal and frightened screams echoed off the walls from the heart of the asylum, undoubtedly from one of the high security blocks.

The marble floored hallway stretched before them was much different from the brighter architecture on the main floor. The lights were slightly dimmer, and the entire atmosphere seemed to change from what it had been.

It felt like a medevil prison now, a place of great pain, even with it's civilized and modern surroundings. The cold concrete walls on either side of the floor did little to improve this feel. When it all came down to it, that's what it was. A prison. No other asylum or jail in the world had to be like this one. It was almost as if it had come right out of the Spanish inquisition or something.

The pair of costumed men were scanned by a pair of apprehensive, younger guards, before being waved through. Batman had set off the detectors, their ring filling the hall for a split second before being snapped off at once. Continuing onwards, the pair stepped out into the winding hallway leading towards the infirmary and continued on as the elevator doors beeped and closed behind them.

"This must be your kind of place, huh Little Bat? Like coming home, no?", Scarecrow rasped painfully over the next echoing scream. It felt good to taunt Batman, and it helped Crane ignore his own pain and troubled, uncontrollable thoughts. "The sick and insane littering the whole building... it must feel nice not to be alone in your cave all the time. Is that why you spend so much time here among us? You belong with your peers?"

As expected, Batman continued to ignore Crane, along with the looks that guards in their stations were now shooting at them as they passed. This didn't discourage the villain, he continued.

"I think...you're the one who could use the infirmary... look at how injured you are, a gash to the hand, leg and chest! You're still standing after all that? You must be a tough patient", Crane whispered ironically.

Batman's eyes didn't even narrow in the slightest, much to Crane's disappointment. The hall and number of turns never seemed to end. As they moved through the hall, every so often they passed underneath monitors that flashed a spinning Arkham logo, or a recording of the warden rambling about his rules for prisoners. There were few orderly's on their shifts, as the rest were undoubtedly sleeping at this hour. Finally, the pair rounded the next corner of the floor, revealing six more shapes standing in the middle of the well lit hall with their backs to them.

A short, pretty young woman in a gray Arkham prisoner outfit stood flanked by a pair of armed guards. She was talking avidly, hands gesturing, to a calmer, dark haired woman with it pulled back into a sophisticated bun. The woman was wearing a lab-coat and was also accompanied by two armored men. Hearing the patter of their footsteps, the young woman turned her blond haired head to face them. Behind her, the dark haired doctor watched as well.

A delighted look sprang to Harley Quinn's wide blue eyes and girlish face as she spotted the sopping wet and handcuffed Crane being followed closely by the stoic Caped Crusader. She tugged on the twin pig tails protruding from either side of her head excitedly and started to bound down the marble floored hall towards them, her head lowered like a football linebacker of some sort. Doctor Penelope Young stood back and watched Harley race towards her fellow Arkham patient and friend.

"Proffesah Crane!", Harley squealed happily, throwing her arms around his coat covered, yet still wiry frame. Scarecrow hissed loudly in pain at the excessively tight embrace, but the young woman didn't seem to notice at all. Nor did she seem to mind her arms and face getting wet as she buried it into his coat. "You're back!"

Crane couldn't help but smile weakly through the pain. Harley's optimism was irritating at times, but truthfully, after only three days away from the asylum, he had missed it a lot. How the Joker could be such an abusive bastard to her at times, he would and could never understand. She was simply too nice and and lovable for one to dislike. And that was coming from a guy who liked poisoning schools.

"Hello there child", Crane wheezed through her tight grip. The handcuffs prevented him from hugging back. "Whatever are you doing up this late?"

"Ol Sharpey had a bunch of us woken up, said we could watch Twin Face's, Lizard Man's and your capture in tha rec room", She explained. "I think he wanted ta send a message tah potential escapees. Didn't work tha way he wanted it to I don't think. We were cheering ya on too loud ta really learn tha lesson."

From down the hall, the four guards along with doctor Young had made their way towards them, standing not too far behind Harley as she spoke. Young was writing something down on the clipboard and glancing back up.

Harley finally pulled away from the tight embrace, but kept both hands tightly on his arms. Including, to Crane's silent agony, the shoulder with the bullet lodged into it.

"I was stallin behind cause I knew ya would get back soon", Harley told him, but her eyes weren't on him as her soft lips spoke. They were glancing over to the massive, armored Creature of the Night standing silently at his side. She flashed a wide grin and stole a glance at the rippling curvy muscles lining his body with interest.

"Hiya pointy ears!", Harley greeted the Dark Knight with a giant, unsubtle wink. She batted both of her long dark eye lashes at him prettily. She removed her hands from Crane and brushed past him gently,moving closer to Batman. Harley came to a stop rather close, entering his personal space and smiling up at him warmly.

"Betcha I know why you're really here, otha then tah bring back the professah!"

Batman stared right back down at the attractive young lady. His firm face was set in it's usual stoic expression, yet something in its isolated depths seemed to loosen a bit. His narrowed, darkened eyes seemed to retract ever so slightly at her close proximity.

"I'm sure you do, Harleen", he replied to the bubbly natured young woman. "You tend to know far more then most".

His tone was still low, yet held a touch of courteousness for such a dangerously serious man. He was sounding almost friendly towards the blond haired young lady.

Apparently Harley thought so too. Her smooth cheeks slowly went rosy. Within seconds, she blushed deeply, glancing away for a moment in an attempt to remain cool, and placed a hand down on her slender hips with mock indignation, fixing him with a confused yet strangely intrigued smile.

"You always know the right things tah tell a lady, huh Bats?", she asked him playfully, tilting her head a little. "You know, ya didn't call me like I asked..."

"Maybe you were pressing your luck", Batman suggested with an odd sort of stoic amusement. He was clearly enjoying himself now, shaken partially from his silent demeanor by her presence.

At that, it suddenly occurred to the raggedy villain what was going on. The Dark Knight of Gotham City and the Clown Prince Of Crime's Hench-wench were flirting shamelessly with one another. It actually wasn't too much of a surprise to Crane, surprising even to himself, whom shook his sore head with a smirk forming. He'd seen it happen before when the vigilante would run into them at the asylum while going about his business. And only Harley knew what they did outside the asylum.

When it came to the opposite sex and fighting crime, Crane was half surprised Batman got anything done at all with protecting the city.

_Using a bit of the disgusting, old quiet charisma, are we now Little Bat?", _Crane thought with cold, tired amusement, glancing between the pair and studying their expressions. He clearly had an effect on her with his presence that was both similar and different to the Joker's.

_I wonder what that grinning prick would think._

"The name's Harley, B-man. Not 'Harleen'. Why do yah call me that all the time?", the loopy blonde asked curiously. Her soft blue eyes were filled with a deep glowing happiness, however, in the shine of the lights hanging over the pair's respective heads.

"I mean, ya ain't my doctah or somethin! Not even they call me that!"

"Because it's your real name", was Batman's unusually quiet answer. "Isn't it...Harleen?"

Crane watched their rapport with a kind of bored interest as Harley's bright eyes lingered up into Batman's analytical ones another moment. It was almost as if they were sharing something unknown that the guards, Young and himself couldn't comprehend. While each possessed a pair of blue pupils, they sharply contrasted. Harley's were light for starters, shining beacons, radiating excitement, while Batman's were several shades darker, possessing a sort of self withheldness.

A sense of privacy.

The guards themselves were standing off to the side with Doctor Young, and appeared confused at the scene, but one of them, a younger guy, flashed a respectful, unseen grin in Batman's direction.  
It was a look that seemed to ask with envy "Man, how do you do it?". Even Harley's doctor looked politely bemused at the pair's unusual flirtation, but said nothing of it, continuing to scribble notes down on her clipboard now and then.

Crane could have sworn a hint of a dark smile touched the vigilante's stubble covered face, or at least, his jaw became less firm. Harley blinked rapidly, grinning again. To Crane's sudden amazement, she boldly reached a steady hand up to the titanic, six armored abs of his stomach. She ran her fingers up his magnificent, solid body, stopping on his chest and he let her do so. If anything, the action made his contented smirk more pronounced as he stared down at the small, slender woman gazing up into his eyes. His muscular guauntleted arms hung down at his sides next to the flaps of his cloak, relaxed and immobile.

There was something different about her doing this action then it had been back at the crowd around the apartment when a young, lecherous woman had ran her hands over the same spots on his body. During that, Batman hadn't seemed to care in the slightest, actually taking the woman's hands off him. With Harley, there seemed to be a kind of mutual understanding shared between the pair.

Crane shook his head tiredly, an action that went unnoticed to all. Batman was merely confirming the doctor's theory about his peers being Arkhamites.

Harley's fingers came to a stop gently. They rested upon the drying blood caked slash wound on his wide chest above the oval of the bat symbol. Her eyes traveled from the chest injury and down to his massive black legs, spotting another, much more ragged and large wound upon one of them. It ran from the start of his thigh and down over the knee in an uneven, curvy slit, the blood still sticky where it sat. A thoughtful expression came to her features as she peered up at him again.

"Looks like ya got ya self hurt again, Bats", Harley said with a smile. "How ya feelin?"

The young woman caught his eyes traveling down to her smooth hand laying on his midnight black chest, and the ever steadily slackening of his jaw.

"Better now", he replied, a hint of smoothness touching his low, serious tone.

Harley's already bright eyes glowed like a lantern hanging in the darkness of the night.

"I don't think Red would appreciate ya bein this...friendly, tah me", she whispered, cheeks still dotted bright red. "She might get a little mad with ya unleashin the Bat-Charm".

"Nor, I'm sure, would Joker approve of your wondering eyes", Batman's faintly amused voice replied without a moment's hesitation. "Or hands."

Harley's cheeks flushed even deeper if it were possible. It was amazing how much she resembled a tomato, even with all that blond hair.

_'Red'?, _Crane thought confusedly_, _his sore eyes widening. His interest in their conversation had been instantly renewed. _So that's why he's really here. I guess that...Catwoman, wasn't exaggerating as much as I thought she was_.

"Ahhh... here for a past Midnight rendezvous with the good Miss Isley, eh Little Bat?", Crane piped up, his lip forming into a curl. Batman's cowled head swiveled in his direction as the villain broke into the scene. "I wonder what could be happening between you".

Harley let out a giggling burst of laughter at this, nearly doubling over as she took her hand off Batman and grasped her own stomach. Batman, on the other hand, stared right through Crane without saying a single word. After a few moments Harley looked back over her shoulder to Crane standing off to the side, tears of mirth in her eyes.

"That's a good one-

For the first time since his arrival, Harley realized the villain's full state. She noticed his glasses were cracked. The pained expression on his face behind them, the shattered nose, along with the blood covering his frail body, the clammy emaciated stomach of which was exposed, the claw mark across his forehead. Most of all, it was the large blood drenched split in his cheek that shocked her the most. She could swear she saw between the bloody gap.

She glanced down at her sleeve covered arms and spotted that they now had stain patches of his blood on them from hugging the fellow villain. A hand shot up to her mouth, the rosy tint in her cheeks from her prior flirting now slowly fading away. She moved hurriedly away from Batman and over to her extremely thin friend.

"Oh my gawd! Are you ok professah? Did Bats do this to ya?", Harley asked surprisingly, turning an accusing look back over at The Dark Knight.

The Batman peered coldly back at down at the young woman, isolated eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Partially", he replied evenly, a trace of a sadistic smile forming on his thin lips where the cowl ended. Upon making split second eye contact with Batman, a couple of the guards standing off to the sides shifted their stances uneasily. "I can claim credit for the nose and hole".

Harley glared resentfully up at the tall vigilante, pointing out a finger at him. Her voice spoke again on Crane's behalf, louder and more shrill then before.

"Tha poor professah didn't deserve that! You're a real mean fellow sometimes Bats! Why do ya always change between nice guy and grade a asshole? One day ur blowin up crooks n goons, the next ur savin kids n' little old ladies from burnin buildings! Make up yer twisted mind and stick with it, wontcha?"

The Dark Knight greeted the silence following her words with an almost unnoticeable narrowing of his self isolated, glinting eyes.

"_You_ tell _Me_ to make up _My_ mind?", Batman's quiet voice asked inquisitively. "_You?_"

There was a silence like the after effects of a weight being dropped on the middle of a crowed floor. It took Harley a few moments to reply, her mouth visibly agape at the mixed amusement and ice in his tone. Everyone present knew exactly of whom Batman was referencing. About what he referenced. When she did finally speak, clamping her jaw tightly, her eyes were narrowed in a show of rare, real anger.

"My puddin might be a little rough sometimes... but he loves me!", Harley protested with overwhelming urgency. "You wait n see! He'll spring me outta here when tha time is right! H-he's just waitin is all!"

The atmosphere between them changed again noticeably, as it usually did. Sometimes it seemed like the pair were barely restraining themselves from one another in each others presence, but the next second they would be dedicated to their opposite sides of the law.

Their opposite sides of The Joker.

Batman peered back, icily exasperated with the young woman's defiant attitude and self delusions regarding the dangerous nature of her relationship to the Clown Prince of Crime, but said no more about it. Harley followed suit, taking a breath and putting it away in the back of her mind.

From behind Harley, Doctor Young took over. She finally cleared her throat and all eyes turned over to her direction. She smiled slightly, but looked a bit sad as she addressed Crane and Crane alone.

"Johnathan, I'm disappointed in you. I thought we were making steady progress getting to the root of your anti-social behaviors and anxiety disorders", she said softly. "Your breakout means I'm on the wrong track and need to start again."

"Consider it a favor doctor", Crane rasped out painfully, resisting a wince at the increased, steady burning sensation in his bullet struck arm. It occurred to him to keep the insults going, the pleasure he derived from them held of the flood of pain a little longer.

"Your methods were foolishly inefficient and obsolete. I had to nitpick them frequently, were I still at the university You wouldn't pass a single of my classes. Now that you know your failures, you can find a better method... perhaps one that will be more successful...however, given your general reputation, I doubt that very much".

Crane breathed hard again, the lids of his eyes closing partially. The flowing hatred radiating through his body in the wake of the insults helped like before. But not as much as they used to. Harley, standing close to him with a concerned expression, smiled delightedly at his tirade to the know it all doctor. He'd struck it right on the nose. A couple of the guards, however, glared at the ragged villain, gloved hands tensing on their weapons.

Young herself shook her head slowly, not biting at the provoking lures.

"I'm not giving up on you Johnathan, no mental problem is beyond help with the right treatment", She informed him shortly. Young turned her head over in Batman's direction and smiled lightly. He didn't reciprocate. At the same time, Johnathan and Harley exchanged mutually incredulous smirks at Young's previous statement.

"Anyways...Batman, I needed to talk to you about that matter", Young told The Dark Knight softly.

Batman, who had been watching the scene impassively, met the dark haired woman's face slowly, his expression resuming the same level of seriousness it had possessed before his Tet e Tet with Harley.

"That's why I'm here", he replied simply.

"Could you take the handcuffs off Johnathan now?", She asked hesitantly, glancing over at the Batcuff's fastened securely around Crane's sleeve covered wrists. "He need's to get down to the infirmary right away".

Batman inclined his cowled head and reached under his cape, producing another gadget from his utility belt. He pressed a button on it and there was a click as the Batcuffs unlocked. The Dark Knight reached over and removed the cuffs from Crane's sore wrists, tucking it into the back of his belt. The four guards tightened the grip on their guns and watched Crane alertly.

Crane merely grimaced and rubbed at his wrists.

"Say B-man, how do ya manage to fit everything ya need in such a small thing like your batbelt?", Harley finally piped up again interestedly. The loopiness had returned to her previously angered tone as if nothing had occured. Batman tucked away the gadget into a pouch. "Mistah J never could understand it! Pretty sure it annoyed em too!".

"You aren't the first to ask, Harleen", Batman replied seriously, his powerful arms moving back down to his sides beneath the cloak. He too gave no hint at the verbal exchange they had shared.

To Harley's annoyance, He didn't elaborate any further then that.

Harley pouted at him with frustration, blowing her cheeks up, uncannily resembling a blonde puffer-fish.

_Why does he always have to be so damningly unreadable and private, even when he does speak?_

"Aw, that's not fair! I betcha tell Red everything!", She complained bitterly, throwing both hands up in the air. "Ohh whatevah!"

The ever energetic blonde turned back to doctor Young and cocked her head to the side.

"Hey Young, I was wonderin... can I walk Johnathan down tah the infirmary?", She asked withe a loopy grin. "I pwomise I'll behave and go right back to my cell aftah!"

Young pursed her lips and lowered her clipboard. She considered the idea carefully before replying.

"I don't know about that-

"Pleaseeee!", the clown girl begged her doctor loudly. "You have to go take the Bat down to see Red anyways! It isn't far away!"

Young glanced over to the four guards, thinking for a few moments. A female guard nodded her helmet covered head at the doctor.

"We can take care of it doctor", She said calmly.

"PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE!", Harley continued to beg, her hands clasped together. She lowered herself down to Youngs feet, as if dangerously close to throwing a child-like temper tantrum for not getting her way. The guards glanced at one another with faint amusement as if sharing a private joke.

"PLEASEEE It's not far-

"Oh, very well then", Young sighed deeply, unable to permit the barrage of begging on her eardrums any further. She stepped past Crane and Harley's crouched figure and moved to Batman's side opposite the other pair. "The guards will take you down to the infirmary now Johnathan. I'll be right back to see you and Harvey after Dr Brenner is finished."

"Yayyy!", Harley cheered happily, eliciting a very faint, yet visible, rare smile from Young. The young patient immediately bolted back upright to her feet, the twin girlish pigtails of her golden hair shaking in unison. "Yah rock doc!"

"Good night Harley", Young said, shaking her head tiredly and starting away down the other side of the hall.

Batman didn't follow immediately.

The Dark Knight's eyes stared ponderously at Harley, piercing her bright ones with ease. There was a faint touch of loneliness to them that made Harley's face go crimson all over again, and, for a split moment, her voice dropped it's loopiness entirely. Yet there was neither anger nor urgency either. It was a more professional tone Crane hadn't heard out of her in a very long time, tinged with the faintest signs of guilt. She lowered her eyes down to her shoes as if they were of some interest, and spoke.

Whatever was in the look on Batman's face, along with her sudden seriousness, Crane had the deepest feeling it was a private matter known only to himself and her. Something Crane, an outsider, could not begin to comprehend.

"I'll see you around Batman...", Harleen informed him with a shrug, still gazing at her shoes, unable to meet his expression for fear she would be unable to let him go. "...it was nice seeing you again"

There was another silence, apart from a faint, echoing scream that carried partially through the walls. Harley's jaw was uncharacteristically tightened in an attempt to hold back the words she wanted, but knew she couldn't, speak. Nevertheless they attempted to break out, and it was only through sheer effort, she maintained the silence.

The Dark Knight stared at her a moment longer. Crane could have sworn there was a small parting of his thin lips as they started to say something, stopping before they could illicit the sound, and closing them. His eyes, now gleaming in the light, seemed to reflect his desire to speak.

A desire he had to ignore.

Instead Gotham's Caped Crusader could do nothing but turn his entire body and eyes away from the young woman, willing his armored boots to carry him on without another word. Batman left them standing in the hallway, moving up towards Doctor Young, who had paused, waiting for him to join her.

Together, Batman and Young turned away from the others and moved back down the remainder of the hall towards the elevator. Harley and Crane watched them go. Harley's expression, a sideways glance informed Crane, possessing a deep sorrow and self shame known only to her. Young had turned her head to Batman and seemed to be conversing with him about something seriously. As they rounded the next corner, the last sight for Crane was of his own mask in the Dark Knight's gloved hand.

_He'll probably take it back to the Batcave, _he thought to himself with bitter annoyance. _Keep it as a trophy._

"Don't wake the cell-block with your... early morning 'interaction', Little Bat!", Crane raised his voice a little higher after the figures, ignoring the shot of pain through his jaw. The malicious intent behind his words strengthened him even deeper. "Some of us around here enjoy our sleep! I'm grateful I don't share her block!"

Harley suddenly burst out in more riotous, exploding laughter, clasping at both of her sides while Crane smirked nastily. Batman, naturally enough, didn't turn. His steady long legged stride carried him up the marble floor, cloak trailing behind him. Once they disappeared from view, Harley grinned quickly back to Crane.

"Let's go professah!", She ordered happily. As expected, Crane noted, her previous sadness had evaporated into the clouds, replaced by the loopy optimism. It struck the doctor as more likely that she had seized his words as a means of escape from something deeper that was tormenting her.

"Ya know what they say: while the bat's away...-

Harley looped an arm gently around Crane's waist, one of the few parts on his lanky body that was not throbbing with nearly blinding agony beneath his long, unbuttoned duster, and helped guide him down the length of the hall in the opposite direction from Batman. Crane instinctively wrapped a long arm around her shoulders, the wounded arm at that, and ignored the burning it caused. The four guards stuck close in a surrounding formation, watching. They continued to talk as they moved down the hall.

"So, the Little Bat is here for Doctor Isley?" Crane asked, glancing sideways to her shining eyes. "That was rather interesting to hear".

"Yup! Bats has bin visitin...and- Hey! Waita minute!" Harley said suddenly. Her bright blue eyes turned a little teasing and a little accusatory. "Didn't I tell ya bout it weeks ago? When I was fillin ya in on the latest gossip around the asylum?"

As they rounded the next corner in the winding hallway, Crane thought quickly, spotting the distant infirmary door. Each step brought them ever closer towards it, but he had time to come up with something.

"Ah of course, now I remember", Crane said with an apologetic sort of half smile to her. "Forgive me child, head trauma caused by the Little Bat tonight, I'm still a bit confused."

"Oh! of course professah, I understand how that is", Harley replied with a toothy grin. "I was kinda confused myself when Red told me about it.. but eh, ya nevah know with Red. I always thought she preferred the company of her plants, bein alone with em... other then hangin out with me of course! I sorta wish she'd tell me more bout it, I'll have tah hound her n' ask some questions in the mornin".

As they reached the infirmary door and came to a stop, Crane relinquished his grip around her shoulders. Harley reluctantly followed suit, removing her arm from the doctor's bony waist, and turned, facing him. Before she could say anything, an armored guard spoke up coldly to her.

'Miss Quinn, we have to take you back to your cell now", He informed her.

Harley put her hands on her hips and glared at the man.

"Oy, none of you guards are any fun!", She pouted, sticking her tongue out at the guard. "Gimme a couple minutes will ya? Sure ya will"

Harley turned back to her friend without waiting for an answer. The guard merely rolled his eyes in unison, but didn't say more.

"Yah did great out there tonight Professah, against them John Law types. I'm proud of yah!", Harley said to Crane excitedly, staring up at him.

"Riddlah made a bet against Freezy when we were watchin tha reports in tha rec room. He thought yah would kill less of tha coppahs then Twin Face would. I wasn't surprised when yah killed five and ol Twin Face killed two before Bats clobbered him and his thugs in front of tha camera.".

Crane beamed down at her, pleased at this development. So, Nigma had dared to bet against him? Scarecrow would have to think of a suitable reply to that misdeed.

"Thank you. I certainly tried to do my best", He replied modestly. His eyes trailed off for a moment as he thought about it, unable to stop his mouth, as Batman had done so well.

"Even considering the circumstances taking place before the police even arrived..."

Harley's bright eyes widened quickly at his poor attempt to be aloof. She knew Crane inside and out, and the faintly haunted expression touching his partially mutilated face was one she hadn't seen him wear.

It frightened her.

"Whaddaya mean by that, Johnathan?", She asked with burning curiosity. "What happened?"

Crane hesitated for a long moment, searching his mind. As he did so, the world it's self seemed to slow around him. The little things seemed to vanish.

_I can tell her, _he told himself firmly as he stared into the sea that was her hopeful blue eyes. _She'll understand because she cares._

The voice chose that moment to surface into his mind unpleasantly, it's feverish rage threatening to consume him. Jaw tightening, he struggled to keep it from showing to the young woman and guards peering back at him. He could see the pair of glowing yellow eyes of the voice at the corner of his sight. It was dim, and attempting to grow stronger against his defiance.  
_  
__**You're a damned fool doctor!**_ , It rasped furiously, the sting of its striking words dripping through his mind like icy cold venom.

_**You cant do that, hasn't the events of tonight proven indefinitely how foolish it is to trust?**__** Even a fellow costumed freak?**_ _**Particularly a fellow costumed freak?**_

_She wouldn't ever betray me. Unlike Catwoman, I've known Harley back before any of this really started in the city,_ he argued back defiantly. _I'm telling her...but not tonight._

_**You can't hold me back for much longer doctor. I can feel your strength sapping away little by little with every passing second... Ill**__-_

The menacing voice was sapped back into his mind again, disappearing mid sentence. Crane noted with discomfort that that the voice was right. It had indeed took a lot more effort to accomplish then usual, feeling almost exhausted.

Before long, it would break through.

Crane coughed nervously as a mental distraction, then smiled down to her, running a thin, tattered glove through his sweat streaked hair.

"I'm afraid that It's a rather long story and it's late", He replied cordially. He let out a laugh and glanced down at his chest. "I'm not feeling the best at the moment, as you can see. It'll have to wait for later, I want to think over the events of tonight".

"Can I come by in tha morning and visit ya?, Harley pleaded. "I'm sure i can get permission, I bin makin good progress in mah therapy so I been gettin cut breaks. I wanna make sure you're alright!".

"That would be wonderful, dear, and I would be grateful", Crane affirmed with a slight nod. "I'll see you then".

Before he knew what had happened, Harley rushed forward and threw her arms around his midsection again, squeezing tightly. Wincing, Crane managed to return the hug though his pain, wrapping his thin arms around her back weakly. When she moved back, a horrified expression shot to her face.

"I'm sorry proffessah! I forgot about your wounds", She told him, rubbing her eyes. "I must be really tired myself".

"Don't worry about it", Crane replied cordially, gritted teeth relaxing. "They'll heal".

Before she could reply, the cold voice of the guard interrupted again, sounding even more impatient.

"That's it, time's up", He told them both impatiently. "Let's go, Quinn".

Harley yawned loudly and stretched her blood stained arms above her blonde head.

"Yeah yeah, I'm goin, I'm goin. I'll have tah change uniforms 'fore I sleep"

Harley turned away from the doctor and two of the guards grabbed her on either arm to guide her away from the infirmary, down the hall. Harley glanced over her shoulder and waved at the wounded Crane.

"Nighty Nighty Professah!", She called back, her voice echoing off the walls. "Feel bettah soon!"

"Goodnight child", Crane called after her pleasantly. "And thank you".

He watched Harley and the guards go, waiting until they had rounded the same corner as Batman. Once they were out of sight, the remaining guards motioned to the door and his smile vanished, replaced by the usual anxious intensity his face naturally possessed.

The gangly villain in his raggedy duster turned away from the hall and moved towards the infirmary door, his anxious expression, in turn, rapidly changing to one of self wariness, cursing himself for almost allowing Harley to see the other.

It was slowly taking control, its clouding bitterness becoming more difficult to manage.

With an inaudible, low breath, Crane weakly reached out a torn, gloved hand and grasped at the smooth handle of the infirmary before turning it carefully.

* * *

**And, Scarecrow's back home, lol. I'd just like to note, that I have completed a spin off story that takes place from Batman's exiting point on this chapter, about the rest of his night at the asylum, his visit to Ivy. I'm not sure when I'll post that, but fairly soon :D, just that I'd let you know. That is the last we shall see of The Batman for this story so I wished to have him leave on a well written presence, deserving of him.**

** Just a note for him, I'm showing off the fact that he reacts differently to the Arkham ladies lol. Batman has always had that sort of quiet charisma to him, and the women of his rogues gallery respond accordingly, often flirting with him, each of them liking him when they aren't trying to kill him. Harley makes for a great character in this story, being Crane's sole confidant. I chose this due to some hints that they are friends over the course of Batman history, both having gone to the same university, etc. Some might be wondering too, why Harley and Batman? It just works. Batman possesses a unique relationship dynamic with pretty much every female character in the books, particularly the Gotham Sirens. I've shown that Batman and Harley care for one another. Batman truly wants to save her from Joker, but she keeps going back to him, to the abuse she suffers, yet I think she's incredibly touched at his desire to put his life on the line for her, all to give her a chance. Even in a single chapter, this was a very enjoyable theme to play with. She's caught between the clown prince she possesses mad love for and a Dark Knight she hates for hurting Joker, and, very likely, desires at the same time. I've hinted that something has occured in the past with them, in reference to the numerous time's in the comics and animated series where Batman has tried to help her lead a normal life again, but ends up going right back to Joker. I used Crane mainly in this chapter as an outside character, observing their interactions, and hinting a the internal struggle within himself. I've hinted at his and Harley's respective problems, but you'll notice I didn't get inside Batman's head. This was intentional, as I chose to show Batman from the outsiders perspective instead of internal. Don't worry, I get inside his head for my other stories ;).  
**

** I frequently go over my Batman work and erase some of his dialogue too, because I feel he is a more powerful, resounding character when he only speaks when necessary, IE, Tim Burton's Batman movies. Furthermore, I have tried to describe his eyes beneath the glowing lenses in detail to resemble those of Michael Keaton's, and his wonderful portrayal of Batman. He does a terrific job with them showing the craziness yet also the loneliness and isolation from the rest of society for Batman, and it was one of the reasons he was chosen originally for the role.**

**I enjoyed writing Crane's nature of insulting and criticizing others. I drew this aspect from Jeffery Combs in The Re-animator, lol. He does a tremendous job showing off that intense, work driven, asshole nature that would fit Crane xD. Always wished he got a shot at Scarecrow in a live action movie.  
**

**I added reference to Warden Sharpe's degenerating mind, along with his plan against the villains of Gotham, as this was touched upon heavily in Arkham Asylum and will be shown further in Arkham City.**

** Thank you for reading, any reviews, comments, etc are much encouraged and appreciated :)**


	11. Chapter 11: Familiar Faces

**Nurse Joy: Thanks for the review ;). I'm sorry to hear you don't like my Batman, i based him more on the golden age and silent ruthless type of batman, but he has a lot more to him beneath, as one of my other fics will show :). I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I based Crane and Selina's meeting partially on one they had in her comic line, cant remember the issues. They had interesting interactions I incorporated xD.**

**Athulis: Thanks again :)**

**Anarchy: Thanks for the review :). I too didn't like Sharpe, but he's a good character. I was unsettled with his ideas against the Arkham villains, even though I'd normally agree with such actions against criminals xD, goes to show you how well Paul Dini wrote that game. Also, for your idea of going to Catwoman's POV again...i considered it actually, but I believe doing so will make the story less powerful if I showed everything, the way I'm writing it. You'll see though, she's far from done with Crane.  
**

**AceMate: Thanks very much :). I enjoyed writing Batman and Harley in that scene. They share a very interesting relationship dynamic. The idea of him being with his peers has always interested me, because deep down, I think Batman likes some of them, particularly the women lol. Thanks for the review :).**

**Smile-Evily: Glad you like my story lol, as for the possibility of sex, I never cram it into a story if it doesn't fit. Sex in stories, in my opinion, should occur when it's been well led up to, and it should serve the plot, mix with and play off well with the story's contents. I never like something seeming cheap or forced, or just to satisfy the readers who want only that. Believe me, there are times when writing where I'm tempted to put this in impulsively where it doesn't belong, but my logic and care for the story prevents me from doing so. Thank you again for the review :)**

**Lots of reviews :), thanks again everyone, now we jump ahead, and with it, another familiar villain ;). Some of you might be wondering why I haven't gone back to Catwoman's POV... this is because she works best within my story if I don't show everything from her perspective. This story is mainly about Crane, as I've said for awhile. I apologize for taking so long, the story is by no means dead, and is in fact close to the end. Thank you Hush 2.0 for pushing me on. I have the story completed, it's just that im side tracked with a different, large story im really getting into writing... and when i do, i usually put a lot aside to make it the best I can. Anyways, here you are in the next chapter :):  
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* * *

Crane stepped through the infirmary doorway into the long bed filled room. Three doctors and a pair nurses glanced up from their duties as the door clattered shut behind the raggedy man. They noticed immediately the blood covered Crane moving towards them, flanked by his armed guards. An African American doctor with a distinguished face, undoubtedly Brenner, stood up from his desk on the far wall and started across the floor towards Crane.

A quick scan of the room told Crane that there was only one other occupant in the rows of beds, a man he knew well. The man in the bed near the end of his row. He was underneath the covers, but still sitting upright stiffly, another pair of armed guards stood on either side of his bed clutching their assault rifles, watching him sternly for any sudden wrong movements.

The unmistakable occupant of the bed flipped his shining silver coin up and down up and down in his burnt hand without glancing at it in a repetitive monotonous way. Both of his faces stared off in the distance, seemingly in a realm of their own. His good one was smoothly handsome, with well combed dark hair sitting on top, yet expressionless. On the other hand, his bad one was horrifically burned... by acid no less, yet grinning viciously as if to spite the pain. His sinister eye on that side seemed to permanently bulge out at any who looked. The hair on that half above the horrific face had gone white as a ghost. On his body, he was dressed in the same dull Grey Arkham suit as Harley had been, but Crane could see his previous clothing sitting on a trolley beside the bed.

A white, black and red suit sat there in a heap, along with matching pants and a tie. Beside the clothing rested a pair of expensive looking black dress shoes. Closer examination would show that half the material running down the clothes center was white and the other jet black. The bright red of the outfit, on the other hand, that stood out the most obviously amongst the white, wasn't material all all. It was patches of the man's drying blood from his scuffle with Batman.

Two Face turned his head slowly as Crane's footsteps got ever closer, still flipping the spinning coin carefully in his right hand. He inclined his head forward almost imperceptibly at Scarecrow as he stopped near the front of his bed, staring at his shattered nose and torn open right cheek, along with the long tears running down the front of his patchy costume beneath the opened duster. Crane nodded back to his fellow villain without a single word and stared over to the middle aged doctor making his way over to greet him.

"Crane! Penelope told us you would be here soon soon. I'm Doctor Brenner", The middle aged doctor informed him. He stared hard at the wounds he could make out under Crane's unbuttoned coat, eyes narrowing determinedly. The doctor motioned a hand to the bed just opposite Two Face's, signaling for him to go there.

"I see we're going to have our work cut out for us tonight.

"It hardly matters 'doctor' ", Crane rasped back painfully, taking a deep breath. He didn't move to the bed as ordered, his dark humorless eyes peering back at the doctor. "The Little Bat makes one like myself used to pain. The novelty of being shot grows thin fairly quickly".

From his bed, Two Face uttered a deep, growling chuckle that reverberated off the walls, sharing Crane's sentiment.

"You were shot?" Brenner asked, his eyes widening slightly. He motioned a hand again to a comfortable looking bed directly opposite to Two Face's. "Please remove your coat slowly and lay down here so we can get to work... the sooner the better".

Crane tightened his torn open jaw and stepped over to the bed, carefully beginning to remove his coat. He slowly took his right arm out of the sleeve, and was even more careful removing his bullet struck left shoulder. He was forced to bare his teeth to hold back the slamming wave of agony. The coat dropped to the ground around his boot covered feet, revealing his wounds.

Both nurses standing to the side uttered horrified gasps at the sight of his blood covered, torn apart, patchy costume. The stark, sickly white pallor of his emaciated gangly frame... a reaction from working around his chemicals for so long, but one he didn't mind. At least he hadn't took a bath in a vat of chemicals. Even the four armored security guards standing in the room looked slightly disgusted as they examined the deep wounds. For the first time, Two Face's remaining portion of his lips curled into a smirk that none saw. His eyes narrowed with a hint of slyness upon the long claw wounds lining down his chest.

"Doctor, how is he still up on his feet?", One of the nurses asked with surprise. "All that blood loss should have...".

Crane didn't reply to this or listen to Brenner's own reply. He wasn't in the mood to talk to the Arkham staff any more then he had to. It was late, he was tired, sore, pained, confused and kind of pissed off at the night's transpired events. He turned back to the bed and moved over to it. He sat down painfully and raised his thin legs, sliding on top of the bed sheets.  
The villain rested his head against the dark pillow behind himself. There was no sense in getting under the covers, the doctors would need to examine the wounds and operate.

Brenner stood over the bed, peering down at Crane's wounded body and his two assisting doctor colleagues joined him, standing quietly at either side. Obviously, he was in charge. He rubbed his smooth chin, deep in thought. Suddenly he turned back to the pair of nurses standing together away from the trio of doctors.

"Go fetch the proper supplies and equipment from the cabinets and bring them over please", He ordered them respectfully.

"Yes doctor", one of them replied, tearing her eyes away from Crane and moving away from the bed. The other nurse followed suit, still watching Crane for another moment. The doctor turned back to the wounded villain as the nurses rummaged through a tall white cabinet, removing various things and putting them on a trolley.

"I see you put an improvised tourniquet on the bullet wound", Brenner commented, glancing at the blood stained, torn off section of costume on Crane's arm, and his exposed emaciated stomach. "We'll need take care of that first. Smart thing to do even when it hadn't hit an artery...then again, if it had hit an artery you'd be dead by now".

Crane smirked coldly at Brenner.

"Really 'doctor'?", He replied with dry sarcasm. "It took you years of studying in medical school to figure out that much?"

Brenner ignored the Villain and continued on.

"We'll need to use a lot of stitching on your chest, arm, hand, back...obviously. What made those scratches? They look like deep claw marks. It'd require quite a sharp object to do that amount of damage to the flesh".

Crane tightened his jaw but didn't elaborate to the doctor. He ignored all the pairs of eyes in the room focused on himself intently. In the background,the squeak of the trolley wheels started up the middle of the room towards his bed. He hadn't the energy to turn his head and watch it.

"Obviously we'll have to set your broken nose again and sew that cheek back together. It looks like you went through a meat grinder out there... then again, that probably would have caused less injury's", Brenner smirked to himself as if he'd said something that was amusing. "You went through more then Harvey and Waylon combined from the look of you".

Two Face grunted from his bed painfully, but continued flipping the shiny coin.

As one of the nurses came to a stop with the shiny metal trolley, Crane examined the equipment and medical supplies. Boxes of stitches and bandage along with a bottle of antiseptic were stacked neatly upon each other in the center of the high trolley. They were surrounded by a wide array of familiar surgical tools and syringes. The tools had clearly been heavily cleaned, based on the way the infirmary's light glistened upon them.

"Let's get this over with already", Crane muttered with annoyance. All three doctors stepped around his bed, and Brenner started to instruct the others as the nurses handed them their respective surgical tools.

* * *

Over an hour later, Crane lay painfully on the bed, now under the tight bed sheets. Many white medical bandages had been wrapped around himself, over top all the stitching. The dull, slamming pain in his heavily bandaged, immobile shoulder continued, despite having had the bullet removed and the wound sewn back up. Crane lifted the cover slightly, looking down at his scrawny, clotheless chest, and it's bandages. He let out a shudder as he took in the details.

_Wonderful..._

His body looked like it had been put back together like Frankenstein, horrible stitches ran all the way up, well over a couple hundred in total. His thin, shattered nose felt no better. Setting it back into place had been painful as hell, and the bandages wrapped on it, holding it in it's place, did nothing to relieve it. He had been able to get a mirror and check his back out. The new scars added to the former ones by the time all the wounds healed up would be almost uncountable.

The ripped open section of his cheek, combined with the broken nose and deep cuts on his forehead meant he wasn't going to look the same as before. He'd have scars running along his face to match up with the rest of his body, along with the palm and back of his hand the first Batarang had pierced. His hand had been sewn then bandaged up tightly.

Never had one night been more painful and costly then this one had been.

_"Sleep tight, Little Crow"_

Nor as confusing, for that matter.

To make matters far worse, which was surprisingly possible, they had given him only a tiny bit of Morphine during their work. He had been forced to feel each of those little instruments burrowing into his skin, and the stitching needles as they went about their bloody business.

Much to the Crane's discontent, they had been forced to cut off most of his costume with a pair of medical scissors, as taking them off normally would have rubbed against the wounds, worsening them. Like Two Face's outfit, his shabby costume and buckle covered pants and boots now sat cluttered together upon a trolley next to his bed. Despite his resentment at the destruction of his outfit, it also felt good to be cleaned up a bit. Refreshed. Now he wore a pair of Grey pants that belonged to the uniform of his cell block. They were comfortable, but not as good as his previous one's had been.

The doctor's had done a fairly good and quick job of everything, and when they were done, had left with the nurses. The only occupants of the room were four stern faced guards standing to by the doors watching the double faced man and the sallow faced, bandaged one lying in their respective beds opposite one another.

Crane lowered the sheets down again over himself and sighed. At this, Two Face looked up to the doctor from his coin and finally stopped flipping it. He had been quiet through out Brenner's operating, merely watching with that ever present hateful half grin. The good half of his face took on a dark look. Combined with the purple bruises and stitches, it became almost as menacing as his other half.

"That was certainly a fun little surgery to watch, Scarecrow. You writhing underneath all that pain" , Dent growled from his bed. He let out a dry chuckle to himself and resumed flipping the glistening coin. "The Bat must have went across you like a lawnmower".

Eyes narrowing, Crane sat up from his bed and stared across to his fellow villain, a condescending smile playing on his bandaged face. He tilted his head ever so slightly.

Off to the side, the four armored guards eyes swiveled back and forth to each of them as they talked, as if watching a match of tennis. They didn't say a word or move a muscle other then that.

"Most of the wounds aren't from the Little Bat", Scarecrow corrected with a dark rasp. "The police were much quicker on the scene then he. I think he was far too busy kicking your ass up and down Gotham for the cameras...or am I wrong?".

Two Face scowled and bared his yellow touched teeth.

"He went after me first because he knew I was the biggest threat to him", He growled to the arrogantly smirking doctor. "You were just there for leftovers."

The smug smirk never even wavered on Scarecrow's face as he stared back hard.

"You're positively sure it had nothing to do with your...ah... past history?", Scarecrow rasped back suggestively. He smirked nastily as he remembered the name of Dent's better half.

"I think the Little Bat goes easy on you on purpose...'Big Bad Harv'. Then again, now that I think of it... your clumsy blundering when you were leading the breakout probably left enough clues behind for the Little Bat that led him straight to all three of us. You never were much of a leader...now that I think about it".

Dent clenched his burned fist angrily, his right eye began to twitch slightly.

"I knew those claw wounds on your chest looked familiar, Scarecrow", Two Face growled menacingly. A sickly triumphant glint appeared in both his intense eyes as he spoke and his lips curled slightly. "And I thought it was only Batman who enjoyed the company of Kitty Cat's brandishing whips. Looks like I was wrong... but to each is his own, no doubt. And here I thought you were just the loner scientist type all the ladies walked right by...".

Crane's brow furrowed furiously at this and the exposed portions of his bandaged face burned an ugly red. He painfully and weakly attempted to get out of bed, the sooner he throttled that double faced lunatic the better. Cold rage slammed through every inch of his tired mind, and Two Face laughed, a low, chuckling growl that mocked him.

Before he could get up all the way to his feet, a guard finally stepped forward and lightly pushed his thin frame back down on the bed. Crane's head hit the soft pillow and sunk in slightly.

"Don't even bother man", the guard declared coldly down to him. "As much as I'd like to see you animals around here all tear each other apart, I have my orders to follow you know".

Logic returned to Scarecrow's mind at this, recognizing that if he got up and started walking, some of his stitches would undoubtedly come apart. That was the last thing he needed. He wasn't, however, through with the grinning bastard.

"You can be my next patient Dent, if you wish. I'll inject you with a fear toxin so powerful it shall ravage the contours of what's left of your good side", Scarecrow vowed scathingly, ignoring the guard and peaking his head around. "I'd be sure not to kill you though... that would be a waste of good suffering".

As he glared around the young guard, Crane could make out Two Face's irritating, smug and bruised expression. He had resumed flipping his coin yet again, now ignoring Crane's eyes, a darkly evil grin on his face.

"I'd look forward to it Crane", Dent hissed back through his teeth. "I'd look even more forward to you trying".

"Better yet, perhaps I'll acquire a saw blade and grind up that little choice maker you keep flipping", Scarecrow suggested maliciously. A cold muddy look touched the eyes behind his cracked glasses. "I heard through the grapevine from Nigma that you wet yourself awhile ago... getting the bad side over twenty time's in a row over a decision about going to the bathroom".

Two Face's good half flushed, and he clenched his teeth as Crane went on smirking coldly.

'You may not appreciate it's destruction none too much... if it's that important to you. Or maybe, a visit is in order to that ex wife of yours, wherever she is... yes, Gilda, wasn't that her name? Forgive my memory... sometimes it slips. You know... I wonder what she fears...".

This particular threat was what drew back Dent's attention in an instant. His evil face burned back at Scarecrow, who laughed, and he opened his mouth to respond with something undoubtedly foul.

"You-

Before he could say more, however, there was a creaking sound as the infirmary door at the far end swung open. All of the room's occupants turned their heads in it's direction, revealing the familiar silhouette holding a pen and clipboard.

Doctor Young stepped into the the long infirmary, snapping the door shut behind herself. Moving quickly down the center, she paced across the length of the room, heels clicking on the floor as she stepped bast the guards. Young came to a stop in between Two Face's and Scarecrow's bed and turned, looking down at Crane thoughtfully. She tapped her lip absent mindfully with the pen as she surveyed all his bandages with concern.

"Johnathan, how are you feeling?", Young asked him gently. "Brenner informed me everything went very successfully, but how are you?".

"That was probably the most pain I've been in, but I'm fine", Crane replied grimly. "I suggest using more Morphine on patients, however. It isn't too fun when halfway through you start feeling again.

Two Face let out another nasty laugh, at which Crane glared around the doctor at him. Young on the other hand shifted uncomfortably.

"I'll let Brenner know about that", Young promised reassuringly. "In the meantime, it's very late, get some rest. I'll come back tomorrow and tell you about your sessions after I put my new schedule together".

It suddenly occurred to Crane that the third villain of the breakout trio was missing from the infirmary. He instinctively glanced around the room, but knew already he wouldn't have been able to miss the massive, unmistakable shape.

"Where is Croc?", Crane asked her curiously. "He wasn't in here when I came in".

"Waylon's in his cell, he arrived here first", Young explained calmly. "He was treated for his injuries then taken back to his proper area by officer Cash".

Her eyes hovered on his cracked glasses and she smiled lightly, extending out her hand.

"Better give me those, I'll make sure you get a new pair", She suggested to him.

Crane hesitated for a long moment, then obeyed reluctantly.

"Very well" Crane nodded and reached a hand up, taking his broken glasses off and handing them to her. He looked back up at the ceiling from underneath the dark sheets and breathed deeply and painfully. "Make sure it's another decent one... at least".

Young tucked the glasses into a breast pocket and turned her head over to the other villain present, who caught her look and grinned back maliciously.

"Doctor Wilson will be back tomorrow to collect you for your sessions Harvey", Young informed him gently. "You had better get some rest now too".

Two Face cocked his head slightly and lifted his shiny coin, turning it over in his hands and showing the doctor both sides.

"Tell you what doc... head's I go to sleep now...", Two Face growled to her. "Tails I get out of this bed and strangle you to death instead".

All four guards stiffened at these threatening words, raising their rifles sharply. Crane hid a chuckle. They turned the focus of their sights towards the double faced man as he tossed the coin in the air and caught it again rapidly.

Young remained expressionless as she watched Two Face scramble to see which side it had landed. His eager faces slumped as he spotted the result. He looked back up to the doctor and sneered.

"You're lucky doctor", He growled, tucking the coin back into his pants. He lowered his head down to the pillow and pulled the covers up to his chin. "We'll find out how long that lasts eventually".

"Sure you will Harvey", Young replied, shaking her head tiredly. "Just go to sleep, alright?"

She turned to the guards and nodded, causing them to relax their stance.

"Uh, Ma'am?", One of them asked hesitantly. "Don't you want us to put some straitjackets on them?"

Doctor Young smiled incredulously at the guard and motioned back to Crane and Dent's exhausted, wounded body's with her clipboard.

"Do they really look in any condition to even try anything?", She asked the young man, shaking her head. "Surely you aren't forgetting your training".

"Um...well... still", he replied lamely. "I've seen what these masked freaks can-

"Just rotate guards watching them, nothing will go wrong", Young informed him, her clipped tone ending further discussion.

"Understood Ma'am", the guard replied, his tone reluctant but partially reassured.

With that, Young turned her back to the two villains and began to move down the length of the room towards the infirmary door. The guards followed her down closely. She opened the door and stepped out of the room, disappearing from view. The faint clacking of her heels on the floor had soon vanished from Crane's ears as he stared blankly up at the ceiling.

"Sweet dreams Crane", Crane heard Dent's voice growl mockingly from the bed across from his own. "Don't let the cats scratch".

Rage pulsed painfully through Crane's sore forehead, with great difficulty he forced himself to ignore Two Face's jeer. He listened quietly as the door was snapped shut behind Young, followed by one of the guard's dimming the lights dangling overhead. A few of them were kept on down towards the guards end of the infirmary, but Crane didn't mind.

Lights weren't the thing that would make it difficult to sleep tonight.

He adjusted the blankets, squeezed his eyes shut and sighed bitterly. The darkness behind his eyelids shut out the dim light and brought the thoughts and memories again like a blazing torrent. Faintly, an irritatingly familiar sensation started to rise to mind. It pushed its way through his brain, navigating to the surface. It was coming back once more, as it usually did after being forced away for so long.  
_  
There you are... I was wondering when-_

_**Why do you lock me away and force back my help, doctor?**__, the_ unpleasant rasping voice deep in his mind interrupted furiously. It was the voice of the Scarecrow that had been present for years.

_ I don't force away your help_, Crane thought back tiredly. He could feel his mind starting to weigh down, like his body, from exhaustion. For the first time in awhile, he felt a stab of anger at the other.

_Sometimes i simply require the silence._

_**Silence? The very last thing you need, my good doctor**__._ The raspy voice hissed assertively. _**I'm the only guidance you have...remember?**_

_I... I know, and you've always been here... however, you are in my control, not vice versa._

_**For now, doctor. For now!**__, The hissing voice reminded him. __**Now...why did you trust her like that?**_

_How could I know what would happen?, _Crane defended weakly. _There was no way I-_

_**You had to know!**_, the voice rasped back_. __**I told you before,**_** S**_**he was clearly manipulating you..couldn't you even tell? She lied about everything.. and you swallowed her whole story up like a goddamn idiot. **__**Betrayal has happened to us more then once!**_

_I was confused! How could I have even expected her of all people to show up in the first place?_ _How many people come looking for me who aren't Batman or the Police?_ _Moreover, how could I expect her to do...that...to me, of all things, after beating the hell out of me?  
_  
_**Confused!**_, the second voice rasped scathingly. It grew increasingly loud as the voice lost what little control it possessed.

_**Hell of an understatement! You were too busy staring at her breasts and being fondled to think rationally, doctor! You turned away from being a professional and allowed your stifling emotions to take full control again. Doing this has only led to travesty at every turn in the past...need I remind you of this? You were captured because of it! You've kept control of it until now only to have a single well shaped woman in a catsuit unravel it!**__  
_  
_See here... I didn't-_

The voice exploded with rage. Burning pain shot through Crane's forehead and he winced, gritting his teeth.  
_  
__**YOU LIE!**__, _the raspy voice suddenly screamed back. _**I'M ALWAYS LISTENING!**__** YOU GREW WEAK!**_

Sweat began to form in beads upon Crane's brow, but he continued defending his actions. His resentment at the voice was growing gradually.

_But... she seemed to... understand. To sympathize with me. She knew what it was like to suffer in this city..._

_**LOTS OF PEOPLE HAVE SUFFERED HERE AND WILL CONTINUE TO SUFFER! WHAT MADE HER ANYMORE SPECIAL THEN ANYONE ELSE? Wait, perhaps I know why: SHE JAMMED HER TONGUE DOWN YOUR FLIPPANT THROAT AND TOLD SOME LIES TO DISTRACT YOU! GROW SOME COMMON SENSE AND SELF RESTRAINT YOU BUMBLING PARASITE!**_

_I- ...I just-_  
_**  
THERE IS NO 'JUST' ABOUT IT! YOU'RE A PSYCHOTIC SUPER VILLAIN CRANE! YOU CAN'T AFFORD THE LUXURY OF RELAXING COMFORTABLY! YOU WANT REVENGE ON THE WHOLE CITY! SUPPOSE SOMETHING LIKE THIS MAKES YOU LOSE SIGHT OF OUR MAIN GOAL FOR THIS CITY!**_**  
**  
_It..it won't.__  
_  
_**Ahhh...Clutching at straws now, are we doctor? I have my doubts that it won't**__, _the raspy voice replied coldly. It was slowly regaining a sort of icy, calm control. _**You're even going to talk to Harley about it! Confiding more information into someone else. You know...sometimes I wonder about you, Doctor.**_**  
**  
Crane swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Unexpectedly, he found courage slowly beginning to pump through himself again, coupled with fresh, pulsating waves of anger. Why was he knuckling under to the Scarecrow like this? He was in no position to be taking over the doctor against his will.

_As I've told you before, I can trust her at the very least... my mind is made up on it. Now leave for the night and let me sleep! This is my mind, if I recall correctly!_

_**Mind? You're insane and twisted, doctor..remember?**__,_ The evil voice hissed maliciously. _**This is more my home then yours.**__**I belong here in this quagmire of sickness. The only use you seem to serve me is your intelligence.**_

_I make no defense that I'm not insane... on the contrary, but these are still all my thoughts.__ I think she was on __the building watching me... it was hazy in the dark... but she could have been there. Why would she? She handed me to the Batman, the job done, she could have left at any point... yet she was there afterward watching...why?  
__  
__**EVEN IF YOU DIDN'T HALLUCINATE THAT DOCTOR, SHE WAS CLEARLY JUST WATCHING HER PREY LOSE! YOU MEAN NOTHING TO HER!**__  
_  
The doctor forced his face concentrate into a scowl and snapped his eyes wide open. Mustering all the willpower left in his wounded body, he summoned it back to the surface. Directing it carefully, it began to smother the evil voice like thick muck. It let out a rage filled scream that reverberated through his mind.

_Get out. Ill let you back in when you're needed, _Crane replied coldly. _That won't be for some time, locked in this hellhole._

The evil voice gargled raggedly underneath the sheer willpower, Grappling to stay on the surface. It stopped after a long moment and began cackling as the shackles of it's control grew weaker in the doctor's mind.

_**We'll soon see about that doctor**__,_ it hissed furiously. The voice was growing quieter once more. ___**You're nothing without me and you know it. I'll take over soon enough... just wait.**_

Creeping carefully back into the bottom of his mind, It was gone. His thoughts were his own again.

Crane let out a deep relaxing sigh, breathing hard. His control had strangely gotten stronger since the earlier times. Prior to this moment, it had been much more difficult to block out the other... when he had wanted to do so, anyways. Now, thinking about that impossible sight of her watching him... it seemed to strenghen him a little. Nevertheless... had it been right? Had he imagined it? ...it wouldn't be the first time he'd had hallucinations. By now, a painful throbbing headache had formed, much worse then usual at the others presence, and the doctor gripped the top of his head. He waited, breathing deeply, for it to slowly ebb.

What was going on? He hadn't felt the way he did until the incident with Catwoman. She had been unique from others he had met, even Harley with her delightful nature. Despite having betrayed him... Crane couldn't shake the feeling there had been at least some honesty behind her words and intents. Genuine comadarie and understanding, not just a latex covered whip involved sex fetishy thing.

Though... he'd found that he'd not minded that part very much... primitive and shameful as it was to admit. It had been... exciting.

Crane feared the Scarecrow had most likely been right. Crane had never known what lay in the minds of females and the other voice had played against that weakness well. It seemed likely that she didn't care for him... only one person ever really had, and he was set to talk to her in the morning.

The doctor closed his bruised eyes again and settled into the bed. His sheer exhaustion was more than enough to overwhelm the soreness wracking his body. After only a few moments, he had drifted off like a light. All the unpleasant, confused thoughts about Catwoman, Batman, the asylum and assorted others abruptly ended as he entered the very much welcome, dark undisturbed slumber he badly needed.

* * *

**There you go people, Crane's internal struggle continues, along with a spar with old Harvey lol. Based most of him including outfit and voice on the animated series of course, one of my favorite versions of him, but incorporating The Long Halloween background. I included one of his hands burnt like the animated series, because I can imagine that if he grabbed at his acid covered face in the courtroom, he'd have horribly burned it. Anyways, we're rapidly approaching the end, not many chapters left now :). Thanks for reading, any reviews, comments, thoughts, are much appreciated :).**


	12. Chapter 12: Harley's Helping Hand

**Kevin and Miho: Thank you for the review, and I am indeed going most of the stretch... not all those ladies, but the Gotham Sirens on the other hand... awesome name by the way xD I love Sin City.  
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**Other World: Thank you for your praise :D, it means a lot that I have this impact on someone new to the Batman Mythos. Definitely, I shall be completing this story fairly soon :).  
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**highland girl 1592: Indeed xD Crane often gets the short end of the stick.  
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**Murdoc's Mismatched Eyes: Thank you for the review, I'm quite flattered to hear what you think of my story :), I'm glad to hear i've been capturing everything right. As for your inquiry regarding sex, I myself do not find the mental image so disgusting xD, character matters far more then appearance, and Crane isn't hideous, regardless, I don't force sex into my storys, it is something that requires proper time to be led up to. Anyways, thanks again.  
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**NURSE JOY: I'm glad, as ever, that you enjoy my work :), given our conversations of Batman, I can see we're on the same page. Two Face is awesome xD I definitely loved the animated and Long Halloween versions of him, as opposed to the Dark Knight, which left out the psychosis he was already struggling with before he was Two Face. Again, I thank you for the review 'Miss Quinn' ;). Also, thought I'd throw in a little reference for ya to a character I know you love.  
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**First of all, sorry this story has taken so long to update, lots of stuff going on, work, writing another huge story... but there's not a whole lot left, so I'll publish all this as soon as possible. Without Further ado, here you go, back to Crane in the Infirmary ;).**

* * *

"_Wakey wakey Professah Crane_!", An excited woman's voice spoke loudly from somewhere overhead. "U_p and at em tiger_!"

Crane groaned out loud painfully as sensation returned to his body. Faintly, he could hear distant mumbling. He peaked through the slits of his dimmed vision to see a pretty young face grinning widely above his own. Familiar blonde hair pulled into twin pigtails. A woman wearing an unmistakable dull gray uniform, one of several other kinds available depending on the cell block, that could only belong to Arkham patients. He breathed deeply, regaining awareness and opened the eyes the rest of the way.

"What are you doing here child?, Crane asked softly, peering up reluctantly at the soft blue eyes above. "Isn't it a little early yet?"

He glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings. Two Face was gone, along with the trolley that had held his bloody suit. Crane glanced over beside his own bed and spotted that his costume had vanished too. At the far end there were still several guards, deep in conversation. Though, they had different faces then the ones from the previous night. His face felt increasingly sore. Ugly purple bruises had formed there over night, much to Crane's annoyance. He watched as she reached down to the dark blanket draped over himself.

"What are you-

Harley Quinn giggled and tugged at his covers playfully, pulling them down away from him. This illicited another pained groan from the thin, bandaged man as his own body was revealed. The warmth the blankets had brought quickly faded away as a cold draft fell on his thin, bare chest.  
It was a good thing he hadn't been naked, for both their sakes. On his waist he wore a pair of dull gray pants. He had been yet to put on the shirt as instructed, due to the ragged wounds covering his chest and back that needed to breath.

"Early? It's three PM in the afternoon sleepy head!", Harley exclaimed, stepping back from the bed. She took a seat in a small chair that had been pulled up next to Crane and stared at him happily. "I just got back from tha Rec room, was askin Red what she was up to last night with her batty visitor... needless to say I only got a scowl out of her... must be learnin from Bats. Anyways, Young figured ya could sleep for a bit more. She said I could visit ya for a bit, and told me to let you know she'll be in soon".

Crane looked over to a dull black clock that had been mounted on the cracked wall in the center of the room. He had not bothered searching for it the previous night. She was indeed right about the current time. Sorely, he shifted his legs slightly and looked over to her.

"How are ya feeling Professah?", Harley asked sympathetically. Carefully, she examined his heavily bandaged body, eyes scanning like an x-ray down his chest. "Jeez ya got a lot of bandages and bruises there, I hope them doctahs did a good job!".

"I feel better, Harley... though, I doubt ill be up and about for awhile yet".

"Aw don't dread about it! Hm... you know, most ladies actually find scars kinda sexy!", Harley informed him with a loopy grin, trying to make light of the situation. She winked at the wounded villain before her. "More women are gonna be stopping by to see the good doctah!"

Crane felt himself burst out with rare roaring laughter, joining in with her high pitched giggles, ignoring the pain. It carried across the room, interrupting a pair of talking guards, who frowned at the villains and continued about their business. After several long moments, Crane regained control, breathing hard.  
He wiped away the tears of mirth that had formed in his eyes. The doctor had no idea how she made him laugh so much.. but it felt good as always.

"Ah, you make light of even the worst problems", Crane said with a quiet chuckle. "It's a wonder what Joker would ever do without you at his side".

Harley's smile faded a little and she stared off in the distance over Crane's head.

"I'd like to know that too", she confided softly. "I'm never sure what he thinks of me... he doesn't even tell me he loves me a whole lot".

Harley remained in her own little world a bit longer, coming back to earth with a shake of her head. She smiled her well known wide and loopy grin as she took on a completely different demeanor.

"Oh well! My puddin does love me, even without needin to say it!", Harley said happily, her eyes growing wide and bright as they stared into the doctors face. "It's like I said, wait n' see... Mistah J's gonna come back for all of us, not just me! He'll spring the whole joint! Might even be easier for him ta do, the Dork Knight, maybe he'll be too distracted explorin Red!"

Crane had his doubts that Joker, wherever he was, would come spring all the villains. Unless he had an ulterior motive for doing so, he could care less that everyone was trapped at Arkham, Harley included. Even if he did break them free, it would obviously mean having to work for him on one more of his secret plots.  
Joker was a schemer if Crane had ever seen one... but it served no purpose to tell Harley any of this. It would just foil her optimism, something Crane could never bring himself to do. The happy ignorant look in her eyes as she reminisced about the Joker was one he had seen often.

It was kind of depressing to look at. Even for him.

"Hopefully", Crane replied finally. He set his jaw as he continued on, the words tasted bad to say from his own mouth. "In any case, don't worry yourself though, I'm sure your...'Puddin'... will be here for you, eventually".

Harley's blond head bobbed rapidly in agreement.

"Exactly proffessah".

"So tell me child, do we still have cells opposite each other?", Crane asked, changing the subject carefully.

She beamed happily.

"Yup! Ya got your old cell! I think Young believes that with my progress, contact with me can help ya with yours! Since ya didn't escape from it when tha three of ya broke out, they knew the cell was no problem", The young woman explained. "Unfortunately they're puttin more security measures on our block because of tha escape. Same goes for Twin Face and Lizard Man's areas... still, least Sharpy didn't hire that mean ol Lock-Up tah run the place the way that idiot Barthala-moo did".

Crane shrugged his shoulders with a slight smile tugging at his thin lips. It disappeared after a moment.

"True enough... and the extra security on our block is still worth it with you around,", He replied kindly, earning a bashful grin from the young blonde. "I did miss our talking".

"You're too sweet a fellah Johnathan!", She gushed, patting his closest bandaged arm gently. "You know, I don't see why you spend so much time alone with ya chemical work. If you got out there, put your personality forward, I bet ya could- hey, are you alright?"

"Huh? What?"

Without realizing it, his facial expression had sunken into a look of deep sadness at hearing these last, familiar words from her. Harley's eyes grew concerned and she moved the chair closer to his bed. She put a hand down on his stubbled cheek and stroked it slightly, careful to avoid the lacerations.

"You look so down professah... what's wrong? Does it have anything to do with the thing you were gonna tell me about last night?"

Crane's eyes darted away at the touch her cool hand. He cleared his throat and tried to force himself to look aloof, casual. It didn't work.

"No no, I'm fine child, I don't know... I'm probably just tired still", He lied weakly.

Harley wasn't fooled. She saw right through it, her own eyes becoming sad. The young woman didn't like seeing her closest friends looking so down.

"Nonsense Johnathan, you look depressed! Tell me what happened now", Harley insisted more enthusiastically. "Come on... what happened out there ya silly head!"

Crane swallowed hard and lay in silence, wandering where to begin. Harley smiled again encouragingly and nodded, motioning with her hands, giving Crane the courage to start.

Surprisingly, the sinister voice from within didn't try surfacing to talk him out of it. Crane was glad. It might have succeeded.

Speaking in a low voice to keep the guards on the other side of the room from hearing, he confided in her everything that had happened. Without skipping any details, he told her how he had been working hard on his toxins, only to find the beautiful Catwoman standing behind himself. (As an aside, he mentioned seeing Harley's wacky outburst on the television interview at Arkham, which drew a laugh from both) Told her about his confusion at her presence. He explained how she was behaving seductively to him, for instance, sitting in his lap. This caused him to pause again before continuing. He told her how he didn't understand what was happening. He mentioned how Catwoman had claimed her relationship with Batman was over, causing Harley to nod knowingly. This fact at least had been true.

He went into detail about how the two of them had engaged in a bloody brawl after she smashed all his equipment playfully, her talking about fun and unwinding. Upon hearing the sheer brutality of the fight, Harley's eyes widened ever so slightly, but she didn't interrupt. He had got going good now, and she saw better then to stop him. For most of the story, she managed to hold onto not interrupting.

He stopped and took a steadying breath. Shaking his head, he plowed on.

He told her of how quickly Catwoman had started to win. How at the end of the fight, she had thrown him down on the table and climbed on top of him, ripping off his mask and clutching his throat. He motioned to the claw marks on his neck and told her of how he knew it was over for himself. Yet, instead of a bloody death that he'd expected, something else happened. Something he had never expected would happen in a million years. Something...quite amazing really.

The sexy cat themed woman in the skintight black latex suit had started making out with him.

Flat out passion. Nothing less.

At this point in the story, Harley couldn't hold back any longer. Her wide blue eyes bulged in disbelief, and she grinned widely.

"She... what?"

"Yes"

"I... Wow Professah! Way tah go!"

"Huh?... Oh!... Indeed, I suppose".

"Where's the bad part?"

"I'm getting to it child".

While Harley smiled naughtily, he resumed the story, now awkwardly describing how heated things had gotten on the table. His face flushed slightly, but thankfully the bandages hid some of it. He mentioned how nervous he was at the time... how... good it had been. How she had unexpectedly stopped him just short of zipping down her catsuit.  
This drew a confused look from Harley, who managed to keep her tongue. He noticed the look and nodded. He explained how Catwoman had mysteriously said he's have to wait for that particular thing, that he'd understand in due time. Harley's face looked thoughtful, yet oddly sly.

"Maybe it means she wants tah jump your bones later on, rather then-

Crane cleared his throat forcefully, interrupting her train of thought.

"Anyways"...

He explained how they eventually stopped their kissing, and their conversation that followed afterward, how Catwoman so easily made him open up to her about his past. How they had talked about his torturous early life and experiences. Her sympathy and understanding. The length and depth of their conversation. He commented on how she had already known a bit about his life, having studied it back at the Batcave when she had been with the caped crusader.

Crane reached a hand up and rubbed his forehead, hesitant to go on, but knowing he had to get it out now or never.

He glanced over intently at Harley. He told her of how after their long talk, Catwoman had curled up against him, and together they fell asleep right there on the desk.

Harley's jaw nearly hit the floor at this.

"_Awwwww_!", she squealed delightfully, becoming oblivious to Crane's desire for a quiet voice. "That's soo romantic!... I mean, I know she basically kicked your ass, slashed you apart and threw you around beforehand... but still! It was romantic violence... better then the regulah kind I say! Oh... my god!"

The guards chatting on the other side of the room stopped and looked up. They shot bewildered and bemused looked in their direction before continuing to talk.

"_Shhhh_!", Crane hissed frantically, looking uncomfortable now. It was difficult enough confiding all this without the interruptions. "No-one else needs to hear this child!"

Harley quickly regained her composure, clamping a hand over her mouth tightly, cheeks turning red. She flicked up her thumb for him to go on...again.

He told her slowly about how he'd woken a few hours after, now laying alone on the bloody table. When he had risen to clean up, he found his hand fastened to a drawer by a pair of handcuffs... soon followed by the sound of sirens in the distance.

Harley let out a low, horrified gasp. She looked as if she was straining not to talk, something she managed to accomplish.

He explained that he had managed to lock-pick the handcuffs off just in time (Remembering to thank her for teaching him). He told her of how after his intense battle with the cops, that Batman had arrived alone without Catwoman helping him. Before being pummeled through the alley by the vigilante, he had mentioned an 'Arrangement' he'd had with Catwoman, that was now over. And the rest of what happened with the police and Batman was, as they say, history.

At the conclusion of his recounting, Crane's face slowly drooped back down into a depressed state.

Crane and Harley sat in silence for awhile, mulling over what had been said. He wasn't sure what to say next, but Harley didn't have that problem. She sighed softly, and reached her hand over, placing it on top his short brown hair, patting his head.

"Professah?", She said hesitantly. "I'm sorry ta hear about that... it's nevah a fun thing ta be betrayed... obviously".

Crane nodded and looked off to the side, his eyes lowered slightly.

"I know... that's exactly the reason I keep telling myself not to trust... you're the only one I've confided anything into".

"The first person", Harley corrected lightly. She rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly looking nervous. She had to ask the question that had risen during the story. "You've made Catwoman the second. There's umm... something i want tah ask ya about all this. Please don't get angry or defensive about it... but i have tah ask".

Crane nodded glumly. Her input would be worth hearing.

"Well...Ya like her, don't you?", Harley asked, beginning to smile almost wanly. "That's part of why you're feelin so down. It had to be excitin to have such a big switch in your life like that, an unexpected thing. It wasn't just a sex thing ta ya. When she sold you out to the cops it felt terrible and confusing, but inna way ya never experienced".

The injured villain's dark eyes widened surprisingly upon the young blonde woman. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words.

"Ya likely have feelings for her because of all this. I mean, she's just like us in a way, but she was showing you an affection that ya haven't known since before we became this way."

"I...nonsense...don't you see? It had to be simply a seduction that I fell for in my stupidity. I can't keep fooling myself... it couldn't have meant anything...could it?"

Harley scratched her nose, considering his serious question.

"Why did she choose to go after you professah? Why not Big Bad Harv or Crockers?"

"I don't know... I wondered that myself. The Little Bat wasn't answering my questions".

"Did you see her at all after B-man caught you?"

"No... but-

A light bulb in his mind flickered on. He remembered.

"Wait... I... uh... I did see some kind of silhouette on the building above... watching me as the Little Bat dragged me back to the cops", Crane said slowly, noticing the satisfied grin rising on Harley's face. She knew better then he did about all this. It irritated him, but he was glad for her presence. There was no way he could have figure this all out by himself. "That doesn't mean it was her! I was out of my head at that point and could have hallucinated anything! I'm surprised I don't have brain damage!"

"Jeez professor... you gotten really clueless with this kinda personal stuff. Bein with Mistah J has taught me a lot about people ya know. Catwoman was watching ya when she coulda just left the scene easily and not looked back...she didn't, so there ya go!".

"There I go what?"

"As a woman, I don't think she was fully lying about the things she told you. She's pretty nuts like the rest of us, and definitely betrayed ya... but it just feels like she had reasons at doing so. I think she's a bitch for sellin ya out professah... but a lot of the picture is missin here. It seems like she didn't tell you a lot about anything, her other intentions, aside from subduing you".

"No... she was rather tight lipped on that"

"Possibly cause she has personal feelings of her own? You fellahs ain't the only ones who have trouble speakin their mind now and again".

Crane, whom had never been able to fathom women, was dumbstruck.

"How in the hell do you know so much about all this?", he asked with genuine surprise.

Harley giggled loudly.

"I _was_ a psychiatrist ya know professah, even if ya all forget it!", she laughed, shaking her head from side to side, pig tails moving with her. "So were you, but we did have our different methods and areas of expertise as I recall. It doesn't surprise me given your introverted personality type that all of this has you so confused".

Crane felt his face growing hot.

"Well... it doesn't really matter I guess, in the end... she turned me over to the police, it's all over with.", He muttered, betraying a hint of disappointment that shocked even him. "I don't see myself hearing from her again".

Harley's hand suddenly shot over Cranes face and she waved it quickly back and forth.

"Hello? Earth to the Professah?", Harley teased. She put her hands back down in her lap and surveyed the confused, bruise covered man. "You don't know that for sure! I've known that Catty chick for awhile, and that girl has a strange way of coming back more then nine times! Ya gotta stay positive about this thing! If you're negative it'll just eat at ya! Look on the bright side of this!"

"Bright side?" Crane asked pointedly, his lips tightened. "What's that?"

"Ya made out with _Catwoman _for god's sake!", She cried exuberantly motioning with her hands dramatically. "She initiated it pretty aggressively from what ya told me! How many people, apart from Bats himself, can really say that's happened to them! That's gotta do wonders for yer confidence! It's gotta be a hell of an accomplishment as a man!"

Crane flushed, but inside he felt a laugh starting to rise. He tried to keep it forced back and succeeded for a bit. When she put it like that... he had to admit it was something. He was a skinny, anti-social, psychotic Scarecrow for Christ's sake.

"But I just don't get it child, i mean... she did imply that she prefers me due to my lesser ambitions... but what kind of woman prefers-

"She probably thinks that nerds are damn sexy", Harley suggested with a wink, cutting him off. "That's gotta be it. Who'd have thought that Kitty was that type of lady? I'm just surprised she didn't toss ya ass right out the window!"

Crane burst out laughing again at this, laughing freely. Yet again she had done it, said the right things to make him feel better. She joined in on his laughter, their combined cackling and giggling filling the bright infirmary. Back down at the guard's end, they looked up another time, more annoyed then before. The pair of patients didn't care.

"Me too, actually", Crane wheezed delightfully. "But it was a much more pleasant surprise then that".

"I bet Professah, would have payed a million dollars to see ya face!"

Their crazy laughter died down, and they breathed hard. Crane felt relaxed once more, as if his mind had been set straight by the young blonde woman. Hell, it pretty much had been.

"This is an utterly insane city we live in, child", Crane muttered quietly. Harley wiped some tears off her soft cheeks and nodded in agreement. He was relaxed enough to confide his other thoughts.  
"Full of scum, psychotic vigilantes, us costumed freaks, filth and ignorance, so on and so forth... it never ends... but... sometimes I'm glad. It can be fun. The way we villains all behave amongst each other, the thrill of the battles and chases the Bat gives us... the people we kill, our constant escapes. There's a wonderful routine to all this madness and horror. Despite the suffering we endure... there's a way about these things that never ceases to keep me interested and entertained. I'll likely miss at least part of it when it comes to an end...sometime down the road."

"That's Gotham for ya professah... bettah then Keystone or Coast City I say. I think we've all been playing this little game long enough for it to have become our lives", Harley replied quite knowingly. "Itsa interestin life alright... never seems to dull. We all just gotta keep goin with it without lookin back... there's no sense questionin what we are... soon as we do, we lose ourselves.".

"I concur with such a sentiment, child".

They were quiet again for a full minute, considering these thoughts seperatley. Eventually, Harley broke the silence, playing with one of her light toned pigtails.

"Any chance ya can get up and come down to tha rec room?", She asked hopefully. "Everyone's dyin tah see ya!...well, most of em are. More people then you think were impressed with your stunt last night.".

Crane shook his head slowly and scratched the back of his dirty, unkempt hair.

"I apologize, but I'll be unable to for at least several days", He explained regretfully. "I've suffered internal bleeding, and unfortunately Young refuses to let me out until I'm a bit better".

"Aw! that sucks! The gang wanted to congratulate ya! Especially Ol Jervis and Freezy! Ah well, guess it can wait fer now, It's more important that you're feelin better".

"Thank you", Crane replied quietly. "And thank you for listening to me...and caring, about my thoughts. And giving your valuable input. I appreciate it"

Harley smiled brightly. It was a brilliant white flash of teeth that Crane was quite used to receiving.

"Ya are here for me too Johnathan, you're even here for me when Mistah J isn't at the asylum. You're a very good listener ya know.. it's a great quality in a person".

_You can do better then Joker..._ he thought with sudden annoyance. _Years of him treating you like shit and not listening._.. _But there's no sense in saying it so roughly. I know the answer. You've made your choices, just like me... but..._

Harley's expression took on a sort of hesitant look and she played with her pigtails again, twirling them slowly. That was what gave it away to the doctor. He'd seen her do it many times and knew the root cause. Something was tugging at her and she wasn't sure if she should ask it.

"What's the matter child?", Crane asked with genuine concern.

Harley smiled anxiously and glanced about the room before finally making up her mind and meeting his gaze hesitantly.

"I was wonderin somethin professah...did you by any chance see Mistah J at all when ya were out of the asylum? I have no idea what he's up tah".

Crane stared back at his friend, dark intelligent eyes softening a bit.

"No. I was planning to go look for him after producing my toxin formulas and seeing if either he, Cobblepot or Sionis were interested in buying any. Of course, those plans fell through thanks to the Little Bat", He replied quietly. Despite knowing the answer, Crane added: "He really hasn't contacted you at all?"

Harley shook her head quickly, pony tails flopping around wildly.

"No... and I weally miss him. It's bin over a month. I been buggin Otis and Arnold day after day, askin if they got any messages", she said sadly, with a solemn shrug of her shoulders. "Thanks anyways professah, guess I just gotta keep bein patient. These things always pay off in tha end".

Crane, however, had to say at least something more about it. He couldn't hold it back any longer. Whenever he was here at the asylum with her, it was always there staring right back at his face when she'd talk about that clown.

"I wish he treated you better... but he never does".

There it was, brutally honest, something Crane had learned to use when necessary.

Harley sighed slightly and hung her head.

"So do I... but I can't let myself think too much about it. There's a lot about him you don't know. I've seen a side to him that none of ya would believe... but I cant tell ya or anyone about it... I pwomised him."

The doctor clenched his jaw tightly, forcing away deepened resentment. He couldn't stop himself anymore. Harley was the only person who'd really ever done anything For him, and not To him...aside from Catwoman now. Even then Catwoman had tried to hand him to the police, whereas Harley had a constant streak of being a loyal friend to Crane.

"Remember when ya made me promise not ta reveal your thoughtful side Johnathan?", Harley asked quietly. "When we first became friends and ya talked to me in private. You insisted later I not let anyone know, least of all the otha villains. It's almost like my thing with Joker".

Crane grimaced at this reminder. He did remember... but he didn't like the comparison being drawn between the Joker and himself. The doctor went on the offensive.

"He's crazier then the rest of us here put together, the little bat included. You know it. How can you trust him like this Harley?"

"I just... I do. I know how you, Red and... well...you all care so much about my safety with him, and i appreciate it. More then i can ever tell ya.", She whispered softly. Her blue eyes looked sad and pleading, and there was something conflicting within them. "But i need you each to trust me on this. Like I trust him, You and Red... Please?"

Crane who had no trouble staring at innocents as he killed them, felt himself growing full of disquiet.

_Trusting me is a little bit different then trusting him, Harley... I_ _have no intention of throwing acid at you or something and never will._

Crane rubbed his sore forehead. He was starting to get a sweltering headache. He wasn't sure if it was the injuries.. or this topic that annoyed him. Unexpectedly, he rose he feet up, put them over the side and rose from the bed, sitting down on it and facing the surprised Harley with his whole wounded body.

"He kicked you out a damn third floor window, Child", Crane finally replied pointedly. His expression was controlled, he was careful not to let himself get madder then he already was. "I don't forget the sight of you when Batman brought you back as you were... nor, im sure, does the good Doctor Isley. He's even launched you in a rocket ship in a bid to kill you! That does not strike me as a joke, Harley"

Harley looked away, her watery eyes glistening in the light. Crane had the distinct feeling these weren't tears of laughter. He started feeling miserable again himself... he wanted to help, but she loved the bastard plain and simple. Nothing before had convinced her to get away from the abuse and it was possible nothing ever would.

"I know that", She whispered softly. "But please just accept what I'm saying... as much as i want to, i can't get into it. Don't make this more difficult then it already is".

_I'll just have to trust she knows what she's doing with him. If he does anything to her again though.. I'll use so many fear toxins...- no, that doesn't work on him. Don't you remember what happened last time you used fear toxins on the Joker after you worked together to kidnap old Mayor Krol? _

_You don't need another chair across the back of the head._

Perhaps a knife would work better on him instead. A scythe across the throat.

With all the strength he could muster, he nodded. He put aside the resentment and let it go for the moment. Perhaps it lay not in his long fingered hands to save her from the clown... but in the rough dark gauntlets of another. His eyes looked down, slightly ashamed now at even opening his mouth in the first place.  
_  
_"Alright... I understand. I know what difficulty is. I apologize".

Harley let out an unexpected laugh and stood up suddenly. Crane was surprised the chair didn't tumble backwards at the speed she went. Stepping beside the bed where Crane sat, she reached down and threw her smooth arms around his neck, embracing him so tightly the doctor gagged slightly. She placed a knee on the edge of the bed beside him to keep her balance.

"Don't be sorry silly!", She exclaimed loudly. "You're amazing! Thank you for understanding and letting it go... I really appreciate it".

Crane breathed deeply and hugged her back, rising slightly in the bed. As he held her, he could see the door to the infirmary spring open, revealing a familiar woman in a lab-coat. Young was greeted by the guards, whom she conversed with Crane couldn't hear what they were saying, but the guards were motioning down to the end of the room, to the bed near which the two villains hugged.

"Of course", Crane replied with a thin smile, pulling back from the embrace. Young had begun to step past the beds with the guards setting down towards Crane, bringing a pair of security guards with her. "The doctor is here now child, do give my best to the others won't you?"

"I will", She promised happily.

Harley followed the direction of Crane's eyes, spotting the doctor for herself. She grinned slightly as the trio came to a stop next to her chair. The stern faced guards in armor didn't say a word as Young addressed Harley.

"Harleen, you've gotten your visit like I said", Young informed her. She gestured to the guards. "These two will escort you back down to the recreation room or your cell, whichever you wish to go".

The young blond grinned loopily and considered this for a moment.

"I'll go to the rec room doctah! I gotta talk tah Red again anyways!"

She looked back to Crane and winked. Moving past Young and forward to the guards, she continued to talk to Crane.

"Gotta find out what she and the Bat were up tah! Three guesses on what it was..."

"I don't think you will require that many guesses, child"

Harley laughed merrily as the two guards took her by either side of her arm and spun her around to face the direction of the door. They started to move away, leaving behind the Young and Crane, whom still sat at the edge of the bed, watching them leave.

"I don't either think so either Professah!", She called back playfully, still giggling. "I'll fill ya in about the latest gossip soon!"

_And I think I might be in a good_ _enough mood to listen to it this time around_, Crane thought wryly. _That's certainly new._

"I can hardly wait".

The three figures passed over the spotless marble floor, stepping through the Infirmary door on the opposite end of the room. One of the other two guards flanking the door reached over and snapped it behind them, the noise echoing throughout the large room.

With Harley gone, Young took a seat in the metal chair between the beds, brushing her dark pants without noticing what she was doing. She cast a surveying the gangly man covered in white bandages and stitches who sat before her, his long thin legs dangling over the side.

"Feeling any better Johnathan?", she asked carefully.

Crane shot her a sour, pointed look.

"Aside from the agony screaming in my stomach, yes, I'm quite fine", he replied indifferently, waving a hand as if it were of no account.

"I'd still like you to stay here a few days like I said... don't worry, you'll be out and about in no time".

"I know... what was it you wanted to visit me for?", Crane asked carefully. "Is it about my schedule?"

"Yes, once things return to normal for you, You can return to your regular routine", Young informed him. "You will have your sessions with me in the mornings and your sessions with Doctor Wilson in the afternoons. I have some new treatment methods I'm eager to get started with".

"Sound's interesting doctor", lied Crane quietly. "No sessions with Doctor West then? I haven't seen him about".

Young looked extremely uncomfortable, and was unable to hide it entirely.

"Uh, no, I'm afraid Doctor West had to take a vacation... he went kind of... uh, let's just say he needs time off, he'll be back another time, hopefully"

Crane smirked to himself, making no effort to hide his amusement.

_Sounds like Doctor West finally went over the edge like the rest of us._

"A pity", Crane announced unemotionally, yet an eyebrow raising suddenly with renewed vigor. The revelation of West's departure had opened another possibility Crane hoped would come true. The doctors of Arkham Asylum, while generally incompetent, sometimes hired psychiatrists who yet held the potential to be great in their endeavors... even if a little encouragement was required. In another time, Crane had met one such rare individuals, and hoped for the chance to become reacquainted soon.

"I must ask... does this open the possibility of West being replaced by the good Doctor Elliot as my psychiatrist?"

Doctor Young shook her head almost apologetically, and shrugged slightly.

"Sorry Johnathan... he already has too many caseloads as it is... you know as well as I that Thomas is still working extensively with Garfield and Jarvis, among others. I'm merely surprised how effectively he is able to handle such difficult cases time and time again... I had my doubts about him, but now I'm not so certain. There's a way he's able to relate with his patients that even I cannot quite place my finger on".

Crane's hopeful look ebbed finally, and for a moment, his bitterness was all to clear.

Young ignored the disappointment in his eyes and continued on, her tone becoming ever more kindly.

"No matter, don't worry about it Johnathan... that just means you get to spend more time with me, critiquing my work with your fascinating input. Not to mention, some of your fellow patients will be permitted to visit you while you get better"

Crane nodded, some of the disappointment taken away.

"Excellent to hear... will that be all then, Young?"

"Yes, for now. There is a possibility I wish to discuss with you at a future date... involving one of the treatments I've been developing for the patients... a project of mine... but it can wait for now. If you need anything, just ring for a nurse and they'll be here quickly, as you know.", She informed him motioning to the buzzer on his bedside table.

"I have to go now, I have a session with Victor to attend to... and they are rarely as pleasant as ours. Lay back down and take it easy Johnathan... won't you? Nothing will go wrong if you just relax"

She had spotted his tensed shoulders. Slowly, they relaxed with evident reluctance.

"Very well... I understand doctor... and I look forward to hearing of that treatment".

Young nodded and stood up from her seat, straightening out her lab-coat.

"Good, Ill see you later Johnathan, Doctor Brenner will be by to let you know the results of the surgery. Oh yes, I nearly forgot: I went and got your new pair of glasses, based on your prescription".

She dug a hand into the front right pocket of her white coat and removed a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, the frames black yet much more modern then his previous pair. He took them from her hands and examined them carefully.

"I preferred my old glasses", Crane muttered, reluctantly putting them on. The slight haze that had been affecting him instantly vanished, the images around the room growing sharper and clearer. "Much more classic era one's, and I had them for a long time".

Young smiled at Crane gently.

"Don't worry, I put them in your cell to keep as a memento", She informed him, earning an appraising look. "I figured perhaps one day when you're better you might be able to get them repaired"

Crane felt his thin lips twist into a slight smile, ignoring the sting of pain it caused in his sewn up cheek.

"You could be a good doctor one day, Young", he commented quietly. "But you have much to learn still".

"I enjoy learning, Johnathan. I'm glad I've finally impressed you", She replied with another more simpering smile. "I'll see you soon, get better quickly".

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the villain sitting on the edge of the bed. Crane closed his eyes and waited for the familiar snap of the door behind her. When it finally came, he opened them to see it shut, the two armed guards in full body armor and helmets staring back at him all the way at the other end.

He looked back down at the vacated seat. With that Crane sighed and buried his face in his hands, careful to avoid the stitching and broken nose.

Harley had once again made him feel alright, showed him the positive side of the whole thing. He wasn't sure fully what Catwoman had meant doing what she did. Maybe he'd find out one day in the near future, maybe he wouldn't. It didn't do to brood over it. He had to get on with things. There was no chance he would forget about it, nor that he wanted to, obviously, but he didn't need to keep considering it. Harley was right, as she always seemed to be.

Crane would just have to stay optimistic, something which would certainly be new to him.

As his eyes remained snapped just under his hands, a strange familiar feeling started to rise again. This time he didn't resist it or force it back. His forehead spiked with dull throbbing pain, forcing him to grab it with his hand and clench his teeth down tightly.

It was back with a vengeance, it's glowing, malignant yellow eyes glittering within the contours of his mind.  
_  
__**Interesting conversation with Harley, doctor... but Catwoman is gone now, as you surely realize. Her sole purpose was to fuck with your mind in a way that required neither needles nor toxins**__, _the voice rasped out was a bit weaker then it was the previous night, but nonetheless determined.

_**Even Harley will soon lose interest in caring about what happens to you once her grinning boyfriend comes back to her one day. When he arrives... nothing else matters to her. You only have me and will only ever have me to rely on. Get used to it.**_

_This time I'll be taking Harley's advice, not yours. Everything will be fine for me if I stay positive and keep this... setback, in perspective... you'll see._

_**Will it? Has it ever been fine for you? **__  
_  
With that simple question, the hideous raspy voice let out a thunderous, echoing cackle that tore through every fabric of the doctors conscious state. The pain in his forehead increased sharply, no matter how much he tried to ignore it, to blink it away, and the laughter would not subside to hear ears. As Crane clenched his bruised and unhealed face painfully in either hand, a pair of unwelcome long tears slowly leaked out the corners of his muddy brown eyes.

They slid down over the surface of his hollow, stitch covered cheeks, stinging, offending and humiliating him with their very presence.

* * *

**There you go folks, Poor Crane *shakes head*, my how Arkhamites suffer. I have funny writing Harley as well, and actually have a draft of a story involving her greatly. She, in my opinion, is the only true other villain Crane has been able to trust, as they went to the university together, and their friendship has been hinted at. For the record, my Harley, although loppy as the true Harley, has her moments of intelligence, when Harleen Quinzel peeks out from behind the clown girl she has become. The story I have of her will delve further in detail to her character.  
**

** Just for a note, I think we all know who old Dr Elliot is ;). After viewing him in action in Arkham City, I most certainly have an increased interest in him, plus there's the fact that Scarecrow is his mentor in the comics, and met him when he was only a kid. Dr West is a reference to Herbert West, Re-animator by H.P Lovecraft, who served as a great influence for my Scarecrow. The next chapter will feature more of the villains, and their interactions. It'll be a bit more up tempo, not as down as this chapter, in character perhaps with the interactions in the Animated Series. Speaking of that series, I made reference to Lock Up and Doctor Bartholomew (unlike Harley's spelling xD). Doctor Young's friendliness to Crane is a reference to her notes in Arkham Asylum, that praise Crane's genius in chemistry, and praises him as her best success, hinting that she wants him to help her with Project Titan. She states that she enjoys their chats, and her ignorance is such that she doesn't believe he has ever tested chemicals on humans. 'Otis', Harley refers to, is Otis Flannegan, The Ratcatcher, who I had not heard of until Arkham Asylum xD. I read that he runs a contraband racket in the asylum, and I figure this can include messages from outside villains... Arnold, Ventriloquist, who Harley is fond of in the comics, seems the gangster type to be involved in this. 'Garfield', is Garfield Lynns :D, the arsonist Firefly, one of the most psychopathic and underrated Batman villains I love. Anywho, I'll see you soon :).**


	13. Chapter 13: Life at Arkham

**NURSE JOY: *batblush* Why thank you Miss Quinn, it's wonderful i've managed to pull of that contrast between the two. Harley is such a great character in that regard because really that's her whole life: Comedy and Tragedy... of course she can relate to Crane's problems. I really do wish the writers did more then hint at the friendship between them, I can think of many great possibility's and storys they could get involved in xD. As for Dr Elliot, I was hoping to get that reaction out of ya xD, I know how much he means to you, so I figured the good serial killer doctor should be mentioned, plus it fit into the story, so I threw it in. I hope the following chapter will satisfy your desire to see more of the 'friendly' Arkham faces xD. There isn't a whole lot left to the story, but I hope it turns out well. Thanks again for your review :).  
**

**highland girl 1592: You are quite right about Harley and her relationship to Crane... even psychotic seriel killer villains need someone they can trust xD.  
**

**ShabbaCabba: Thanks for your review, I understand what you mean by that... I think there is a certain grime outside in Gotham City, while, ironically, the asylum is kind of a calm in the storm for the villains, since it's pretty much their home. It means a lot that i've managed to capture Crane as he should be, since it's so easy to muddle up characters and whatnot. Thanks again!**

**Athulis: Glad to hear you're still enjoying the story, thanks for the review xD, we are close to the end now, don't worry.**

**Well people, unfortunately we are now drawing close to the end. I believe the next chapter shall be the last... but for now, focus on the present: a glimpse at the average day in Arkham Asylum xD. As stated in my prior chapter, I took inspiration from the Animated Series doing this chapter after seeing how the villains behaved amongst one another. I intend to show also that my universe is far bigger then Gotham ;). Much if this story has been dark and serious, as I love in a story, but now I thought we'd get a bit more lightness in this chapter. Not entirely I assure you, I'm not sure I'm the kind who could write a straight out comedy, but still, when it comes right down to it I'm 80 percent pragmatic and 20 percent romantic, and therefore put in my stories what is needed to deliver the message. I digress... enjoy what is to come :).**

* * *

_**One Week Later In the Recreation Room**_

"Hey! Good move Jervis!"

"King me, my straw filled old chap!"

"It was a lucky move"

"Lucky? More like skills my good man!"

"Hurm... I doubt it".

"I must say Johnathan lad, I think all the beatings you received have impaired your ability to play a good chess game! More often then not you dominate the board!."

"I still stay the bat is a robot! How else does he punch that hard? He nearly broke my nose!"

"He did break my nose".

"A Nonsense theory I must say, Waylon. Anyways, perhaps Johnathan is distracted by something more pressing"

"Maybe the doc's goin easy on ya Jervis!"

"Exactly Crockers. Just set up the board again, I'll beat you yet"

"Oh really?"

"You bet your top hat"  
_**  
**_Waylon Jones from his chair next to doctor Crane watched the game finish up with a huge grin (massive actually, due to such a giant jaw). He was a boulder of a man, if indeed he could be considered one any longer, being well over eight feet tall with rippling, scale covered muscles all over. In appearance he almost seemed more like a statue, a reptilian gargoyle of sorts, save the unnatural reds of his eyes, so similar to works of glass. Of all the people in the asylum, he was the only one permitted to be shirtless. They couldn't find anything in his size. He only wore a huge pair of gray pants the staff had managed to procure, even then they bulged at the legs and were undoubtedly tight. Crane had to hand it to whoever supplied furniture to the asylum: he was amazed the chair could support all that weight.

Jervis Tetch, a short, intelligent looking man with a small yet bulbous nose, started placing all the pieces on the correct places on the board. Crane pushed back from his seat at the large, smooth and oval table. He stood up from his his straight backed wooden chair and stretched his long thin arms over his head. He glanced slowly around the rec room at the fellow villains, turning his head.

It was a very large and well guarded room, it had to be to put up with all the villains. There was only one main door, beside which stood several guards. That wasn't the only place guards stood however. Littered around the edge of the entire room, even watching from balconies overlooking the floor, there was at least one guard for every three feet, heavily armed and armored. Most were watching alertly, but a couple pairs were chatting together. Bright red and green carpeting covered the floor, probably an attempt to lighten such a usually dark place. It was hideous, reminding Crane of some kind of disgusting Christmas decoration gone horribly wrong.

The chessboard on the large table wasn't the only recreational activity in the place. Three large couches were pulled into one section near the chess table, in front of which sat a television set that had been mounted on a cabinet against the wall. A pair of pool tables had been set up not too long before, at which a group of patients were playing around. Every now and then there would be an enthusiastic outburst as one opponent scored a good shot with the pool cue.

Some patients on the other hand, merely read from one of the bookcases or were whispering to each other. A few sat alone, spaced amongst the carpet, seemingly lost in thought. The quiet ones were the people the guards watched the most. One in particular merited extra guards watching over him... a thin man sitting in the corner, his head shaved. He would not have looked out of the ordinary... save for his blank eyes, the all too precise tally's of self inflicted scars and the fact that he was whispering to himself. Even many of the patients were unsettled by him, opting to keep as much distance between themselves as possible. Croc, at his table, glanced over to the scarred man now and again with clear disgust evident in his usually unknowable expression, his teeth bared at times.

Other notable patients of the asylum who sat in their own little twisted worlds included a man barely recognizable as one beneath the long healed third degree burns covering his entire head, as he sat in a chair, a pair of equally burnt hands thumbing through a thick index related to the Vietnam war. The shriveled remains of the pyromaniac's charred lips tightened with evident sick pleasure as he looked at picture after picture of dead men women and children who had been on the receiving end of American Napalm, his dark eyes dancing, his breath labored with undisguised excitement. Just opposite of this man, sat a woman who shared a trait in common with the pyromaniac in front of her: the fact that few could stand to look at her long without betraying a shudder. Where a young womans face, her hair even, should have been in their respective places, there was only a hairless, fleshless and noseless remnant of permanently inflamed red. She too sat in a straight backed chair, seemingly oblivious to the world at large within the recreation room as she peered down at her own magazine, one regarding runway models. Not permitted the use of a pen or pencil, there was the occasional squeak of a marker as her skeleton-like hands circled particular features that seemed to interest her, and she too smiled now and again in a grinning rictus.

Sitting stretched out on opposite couches in front of the television set were the metal suited Doctor Victor Fries, who was forced to wear the suit whenever out of the safety of his icy refrigerated cell, and the uniformed Edward Nigma, clearly displeased with being out of his own signature green business suit.

Mr Freeze sat comfortably on the couch to the left of the set, in his full covering metal suit as all the while it regulated his body temperature to a comfortable fifty degrees below zero. It was almost like a suit of knight's armor in it's appearance, but high tech like something you'd see out of a comic book. The strength multiplying circuitry in his suit had been wisely deactivated, as had been intended in this particular suit. In any event, the guards had a lock down code capable of trapping Freeze within his suit, should he get out of line. Color-wise it was composed of a metallic scheme of blue and black, the black focused upon his legs and patches on his arms. The blue metal composed the majority of his stomach and chest, along with being focused on the base of the neck of the clear dome shaped helmet he wore.  
Beneath the helmet was a smooth light blue tinted ghostly face with a prominent hook shaped nose. His head was bald, it had been ever since the incident in his lab all those years ago at Gothcorp. His eyes remained hidden from sight, beneath a pair of dark goggles.

Nigma on the other hand was visually less unique. He looked like your average man in almost every way, height, size and handsome features, his appearance of course belying his true nature. He wore the simple standard grey suit many Arkhamites had always worn, that clashed with his short, slicked back chestnut toned hair. In his long fingered hand he held the dark television remote and kept flipping through the channel, unsure which thing to watch, his serious eyes narrowed intently upon the screen.

*Klik*

"Good evening Gotham, this is Jack-

*Klik*

"Come on! Lift those legs-

*Klik*

"Three children have been kidna-

*Klik*

"Rosebud...-

*Klik*

"_Enough_!"

Freeze impatiently slammed a metal gloved fist against the arm of his couch, causing Nigma to recoil and stop switching, if only for a moment. He glanced over to his cold-suited rival with his self confident face. His eyes raised slightly, causing his forehead to wrinkle as he listened to the annoyed scientist.

"Pick a channel and stay on it Nigma!", Freeze's low, hauntingly monotonous voice demanded from within the suit's filters. Beneath the domed, clear helmet, his unseen eyes narrowed upon his smooth haired fellow villain. "We only have so much time watching before the women show up to steal the television set with the foolish shows they watch! Do you really wish to view a gardening show or a soap opera again?"

"You're impatient Freeze", Nigma muttered resentfully, yet smirking slightly. He tilted his head, casting a wise yet piercing look at Freeze. "I wonder how your lovely blue 'Killer Frost' puts up with it 24/7... at least, when you aren't locked up in here... tell me, does Nora get jealous of your... liaisons, per chance?".

Freeze's cold, gauntleted hand clenched into a fist on the sofa, then relaxed slowly. He sneered at his riddle spewing rival, a thin eyebrow arching mockingly.

"At the least I was never given a nervous breakdown by a man with no face".

Riddler's handsome face flushed slightly at this reminder of his clash with Hub City's finest. He quickly rallied, however.

"Riddle me this 'doctor': What does one do with an Impatient mass of steam like yourself?"

"What?"

"Put him on _ice_. Unfortunately it isn't shoot the dome-head-in-his-empty-head- day though. Now, give me a break and ill find a halfway decent channel"

With that simple statement, Nigma continued to click away, searching for an entertaining show. He wore a smug expression on his lips now, much to Freeze's annoyance.

"You'll need to work on your riddles Nigma, i could pulled a better one out of my-

*Klik*

"Watch out! He's got him a Laser Luger!"

*Zap! Zap! Zap!*

"Stand back you primitive bastards!", came an articulate sophisticated English accent.

*Pow!*

Nigma and Fries sat bolt upright and roared together with shared enthusiasm as they spotted their favorite television hero standing boldly in the center of the screen, a devastated landscape visible beyond him. The stern faced Caucasian man in a blue jacket was firing his Laser Luger determinedly while shielding a young blond woman behind him, in a revealing white dress, from harms way.  
He was a man of rugged good looks, only having a little of his dark hair out of place on his sweat stained forehead. Crane had to admit, although he'd only heard of the show, the character was rather popular... at least from what he had heard.

"SAM SAXON!", Nigma and Fries roared loudly in unison. Nigma slapped his knee good naturedly and grinned, turning up the sound level for them.

The loud and familiar sounds of the Laser Luger attracted over half a dozen other grey, red and orange uniformed patients, nameless one's who didn't matter to Crane in the slightest. They took seats on Nigma's and Fries's couches, along with the other free one left.

Despite his enthusiasm, Fries cast a glance to a clock mounted on the wall, followed by another icy look over at Nigma, who was still grinning stupidly at the glowing set with a couple others on either side of him.

"Do you see the time Nigma?", Asked Fries's monotonous voice. "The episode is very nearly over! You should have used the menu to search! Now your idiocy will cost us the whole program!"

Not taking his eyes off the set, Nigma raised the remote again and pressed a small red button. In the corner of the screen a menu popped up, revealing what was on further down the schedule.

**Time: 8:20 PM**

**8:05PM: The Sam Saxon Show!** **8:30 PM:****The Sam Saxon Show****! ****9:05 PM**: **The Vicki Vale Show**(_with special appearances by Gotham's own Alan Scott and Coast City's Hal Jordan_) **10:30PM**:...**TBA**

"Don't worry yourself icicle nose!", declared Nigma with a happiness that usually came solely from riddles. He pressed the remote again and switched off the menu, the screen flicking back to the Rugged hero who had just finished firing. "There's another episode next. It must be a two parter, so we'll get a recap of what we missed!"

This revelation satisfied the metal suited doctor, who propped up his heavy boots on the coffee table next to his couch. He placed both of his gloved hand's behind his domed helmet and watched with a contented smile as Saxon embraced the promiscuous blonde with a passionate kiss.

"_Oh Sam_!"

"I'm ready for another game", Jervis's own posh English accent declared from behind Crane's shoulder as he watched the patients ogling the set. It brought Crane back to focus quickly.

Crane turned back to the table to see the blonde man grinning widely up at him. It was an action further exaggerated by the large overbite of his teeth. The massive Killer Croc in the chair closest on the other hand, was staring at the chess board, probably still trying to decide which way the pieces moved. He had long been a slow learner at chess. Jervis adjusted the shiny black top hat he was permitted to wear in the asylum and motioned over Crane's shoulder towards the television set.

"I must say, that 'Sam Whatsits' nonsense is an inaccurate portrayal of the British", he muttered to Crane as he sat back down in his chair. "Plus that show clearly has racist undertones... it'll be canceled before long I daresay"

Croc grunted and with a huge hand, itched the scaly reptilian skin around the base of his almost suffocating metal shock collar. One wrong move and more volts of electricity then he cared to feel would course through his entire body.

"I still wish they showed reruns of the Honeymooners!", The scaly man muttered to himself with relish. He raised a massive fist and swung it in mid-air enthusiastically. "One of these days _Alice_-

Jervis blinked at the mention of this familiar female name, but surprisingly showed no other sign of discontent in the least.

"I've never really seen Sam Saxon", Crane admitted to them dryly, settling himself back at the table and folding his long fingered hand's together. "I wouldn't be surprised if it's poor quality. You know television and movies nowadays, going right to the gutters".

Jervis Tetch nodded grimly and smiled again.

"And music for that matter. We always have our reliable chessboard at least, something that shall never become obsolete. You may have the first move Johnathan", Jervis informed him. "Better make it count"

"I still say we should play some poker!", Croc declared loudly, banging a fist on the table and nearly causing the pieces to fall over. The noise echoed throughout the room, and heads turned from everywhere, momentarily surprised. They soon went back about what they were doing. "Last time we all got together and did that was great!...apart from the clown cheating again... but look, I got a deck and everything!"

Sure enough, he reached into the pocket of his massive pants, pulling out a deck of playing cards. Shuffling it between his massive, scaly fingers he layed down a single card, face up, setting aside the others next to it.

*FNAP*

A clown in a jester hat grinned up crazily at the three surprised men gathered around the chessboard, and Croc uttered deep, carrying laugh.

"Speak of the devil..."

From over on the couch, Freeze managed to tear his domed head away from the television set and scowled in their direction at the table, his thin lips tightening.

"We're enjoying a show over here", His monotone voice informed them with annoyance. He turned back to the television set. "Keep it down for awhile 'Lizard Man'"

Croc scowled and started to rise from his seat indignation. He suddenly remembered the shock collar and thought better of it, sitting back down.

"Bad enough having that pig tail wearing blond hench-wench calling me that-

Crane shot a crooked glance over to his scaly friend and he instantly shut up, knowing not to insult the woman in the doctor's presence.

The doctor smirked at the power he held, and continued on with his chess game. Poker was one of the few games Croc did alright in... but he could get very angry when he lost. Harley had been right, thank god for the shock collar. He probably would have tried eating Crane by now without it.

"Oh come on Crockers, you know poker's only fun when the rest of the gang is joined in with us", Crane reasoned quietly, motioning to the deck of cards. "It just isn't the same with only three of us."

"Yeah... good point I suppose", Croc grumbled reluctantly, resting both massive arms on the table. "Get the game going, I want to see who wins this time".

Crane looked down and surveyed the board. His side was the black pieces, going against Jervis's own white ones. Jervis had been correct. Chess wasn't on his mind too much at the moment, he had been preoccupied with his other thoughts. Thoughts that hadn't left him since the previous week. They had died down slightly thanks to Harley's wise words, but they were always there sitting at the edge of his mind begging to be considered... he gave them more attention then he should have.

He wasn't sure why they weren't leaving... no matter how hard he had tried to force them out, they came back... much to the chagrin of his Scarecrow's side. The curious scientist he was on the other hand couldn't help but analyze them, it had always been apart of his obsessive and nit picky nature to do. When he closed his eyes, there she was... when he drifted to sleep, there she was. When he was watching television, there she was. When he was in his sessions, there she was. It had never been like this for him with a human being, it had usually been about making his chemicals. Although he indeed wanted to make a more lethal, advanced dose of his fear toxins, it wasn't at the forefront of his mind. That alone was unsettling in it's self.

"Johnathan? Wonderland to Johnathan".

"Huh? Oh"

Crane hadn't been aware that he'd been staring off blankly in the distance. He had lapsed off again into his mind, thankfully Jervis's words returned him to reality. He blinked hard,the concerned faces his friends sitting next to and opposite him. He rubbed his forehead. The ugly purple bruises were only now starting to fade away, their tint slowly dissolving.

"Ya ok doc?", Croc rumbled curiously. "Ya looked like that meatbag Zsasz over there for a second... uh, no offense to ya".

"Sorry about that, just...considering peculiar things"

"Is everything alright Johnathan? I've had that look on my face before myself you know", Jervis asked with a hint of concern. He himself thought about it for a moment, then cast an appraising look to the wiry Crane whom was picking up a dark tinted Pawn, still considering where to move. "I actually found myself having it when Alice was around as a matter of fact... back when I thought she could yet love me, of course."

Crane was surprised. Jervis hadn't talked about that incident with Alice for a very long time... maybe the psychiatric sessions were working a little bit for at least one of them. He made another mental note regarding Dr Elliot's extraordinary capable expertise, smiling faintly.

Crane shrugged at Jervis's comment.

"Things are as fine as they can be in here Jervis, apart from the occasional beatings".

"Or the shock collars and sewers doublin for cells", Croc added with a growl of agreement. "Ought bite off that bastards other hand..."

Jervis nodded at the pair grimly.

"Here here. It gets rather old rather quickly. Hmm... were you thinking about that delightful young lady in the catsuit, Johnathan, by chance? She would certainly provide cause to be distracted".

Crane's head snapped up from the board looked up sharply into Jervis's kindly eyes and glared at once. Croc was unable to bite back an amused snicker, but immediately stopped when Crane shot an icy look at him too, and the giant scaly man continued to grin insolently.

"What are you talking about Jervis?", Crane asked sharply., returning his attention to his top hatted friend.

"You know full well what I'm talking about here Johnathan, don't think you can feign ignorance".

"I'm afraid I haven't a clue what you're referring to", Crane lied poorly, his cold glare remaining.

"Sureeee ya don't doc", Croc laughed loudly again roughly, unable to help himself. "No need to deny it, your a damn lucky guy I say. I only had Batman to deal with, not a hot woman brandishing a whip".

"And let me guess, you threw a rock at him?", Crane asked with a knowing smirk. "Am I correct?"

That wiped the razor toothed grin off Croc's face instantly. He rubbed the back of his head and looked uncomfortably away as if trying to divert the attention elsewhere.

Jervis cleared his throat, regaining Crane's sharp focus.

"Two Face told a bunch of us not too long ago Johnathan", Jervis informed him, folding his hands together in front of his side of the board. "Apparently you had claw marks all over you the night you were returned. Batman doesn't use claws, Catwoman does. It doesn't take a genius to realize the implications of such a happening".

Crane said nothing. There wasn't anything really to say about it... he'd already spilled his guts to Harley, that was enough. This didn't discourage Jervis, who let out a tsk tsk.

"No need to be ashamed, I know how utterly insane the 'fairer' sex is. One moment they're tearing your insides apart and smiling, the next they're mending you up and asking who did it".

Crane had to smirk appreciatively at Jervis's accurate summary of women, and nodded. He finally moved his dark pawn up on the board, beginning a strategic advance towards Jervis's side.

Killer Croc even let out a laugh of agreement, glancing back and forth between Crane and Jervis with clear delight at the statement.

"I'll say", He agreed brusquely, rubbing his massive hands together. "But then again I haven't had much contact with females, you know, scaly skin, crocodile head and whatnot, apart from Mary".

"I've been learning quite a bit of that as of late", Crane admitted truthfully. Jervis was quicker on the board, beginning his own move immediately. He advanced a white pawn to meet Crane. "It's rather interesting in some ways, irritating in others"

"Did you hear about Pamela and the Bat?", Jervis asked them both with a knowing, deliciously amused look. "_You_ must have Johnathan, Nigma found out about it ages ago in no time, you have the advantage of being rather close to Harley"

"Yes", Crane replied with a confirming nod himself smirking coldly. "I found out about it upon my return".

"You're kiddin me!", Croc replied with indignant surprise, his scarlet eyes widening. "How did I miss out on hearing that?"

"Don't worry about it Croc, I didn't know about it for awhile either.", Crane informed him. He reached over to his farthest pawn and began to move it forward. "I suppose the little bat has a thing for green skin perhaps... plus obvious psychosis. You'd have to be suicidal or insane to want that toxic woman".

"I tell you, that Bat pretty much is the Captain Kirk of our universe!", Croc declared loudly. On the opposite side of the board, Jervis was listening intently, but his face was considering his next move. "I mean, what woman's pant's hasn't he gotten into? And I'm talking both villainess's and heroine's here".

There was silence as the three villains wracked their brains for quite some time. Jervis even removed his dark top hat for a second, scratching at his surprisingly messy and thick, yet clean blond hair before lowering it back down and adjusting it. There had to be countless women that vigilante had been with...on multiple occasions too. None of them could come up with an answer to it, so Crane offered one of his own with a smirk.

"Luthor?"

The three men burst out with immediate laughter, Croc banging on the table again, roaring and shaking back and forth. They howled with mirth at such an idea. Johnathan regained control first, his maniacal laughter subsiding. He wiped his bruised eyes and took a deep breath. It felt good to be able to laugh again without bursts of pain shooting up through his gut with the same intensity of a heated knife.

"Alas, I think Luthor's time is already taken up as it is.", He muttered, shaking his head with a grin. He winked to his friends. "By a 'Man Of Steel', no less".

"A man of glass you mean", Croc comment stoutly, scratching profusely at his scaly neck again. "That guy might have superpowers, but he's a big blue pushover I hear. All ya gotta do is find some of that glowin green stuff... wherever ya find it, plus he never kills anyone. Still, gotta say 'Man of Steel' beats the title '_Fastest_ Man Alive' pretty damn easily".

"You aren't much a fan of Luthor are you Johnathan?", Jervis asked, looking up after making his next move. Their lead pawns were dangerously close to meeting each other. "Didn't you enjoy your time working with the Legion?"

"I work better on my own I guess", Crane replied to his top hatted friend, shaking his head bemusedly. "Or with a few others. There were so many of us there, and Luthor just doesn't pay well enough. If I get a better offer, perhaps I'll go back... but fighting the Bat is difficult enough at the moment, adding Martian's, Amazonians and Cyborgs to that equation just makes it unnecessarily tougher. It needs to be in my own best interests to risk my neck for that cause.".

Crane turned his head back in the direction of his previously fellow Legion member, the Riddler, over on his couch. Unsurprisingly he sat engrossed with the television program that was just wrapping up.

"Isn't that right Nigma?", he asked loudly, his voice carrying over to the television.

Nigma didnt even glance back. He replied out the corner of his mouth vacantly, his eyes focused unblinkingly on the set.

"Huh? The Legion? Yeah... wild bunch of freaks there. That gig was too crazy even for me. The day I work with those kind again is the day I reach a new level of desperation".

Crane turned back to the others and shrugged.

"See what I mean?", He asked them, reaching down to make another move. "It's a deathtrap joining leagues of villains... it gets too big and unwieldy too quickly."

"You know Johnathan... I was-

Before Jervis could continue what he was about to say, the main door across the room opened with a squeak, causing him to stop his next move. As one, Croc, Jervis and Johnathan glanced up from their new game at the newcomers. From all three couches, Fries, Nigma and the others looked away from the ending credits of their engrossing television program and groaned bitterly as they caught the sight of the interlopers. With their arrived presence, things didn't look good for the Sam Saxon fans.

The two shapely young women, one in a grey uniform and the other in a bright red jumpsuit, stepped through the doorway and past the guards. They were chatting to each other as the doors closed behind them. The small pigtailed blond was much more engrossed in talking excitedly, but it was an average heighted, yet statuesque woman with flowing red hair and venomous pale green skin who stood out the most between the pair.

She looked amazingly attractive, even in the covering uniform, easily surpassing the beauty of a runway model. even with the hints of tattoo-like vines running partially along either side of her smooth cheeks and ears. Her eyes were a bright nature green just like most of the rest of her, possessing long and dark eyelashes. Her long sleeved red arkham shirt, it's collar lines with blue, hugged her slender body very well, revealing the contours of every curve shape. The woman's beautiful skin wasn't just a pale and delicate green, it was seemingly almost ethereal, possessing an other-world quality that was hypnotic in it's self. Her darkly green tinted lips were pursed and as lovely as the rest of her. Crane wasn't sure if it was lipstick or her natural...well, unnatural, lip color, but he had his ideas. It suddenly occurred to him that by pure coincidence he hadn't seen her the whole week since his arrest.

Poison Ivy was listening patiently to Harley Quinn, speaking back every so often in a low voice. Her red haired best friend held a tan colored plant pot against her tight chest like a mother cradling a baby. Protruding from the dirt filled flower pot sat the single, rare type of red rose she always took with herself wherever she went within the asylum.

Together Ivy and Harley cut a line across the length of the room towards the chess table, stepping past a groups of male patients who tried to ogle them. The men continued to stare after them as they moved past, finally shaking their heads and whispering excitedly to each other. Ivy had long had that affect over filthy drooling heathens, to Cranes amusement.

Crane glanced over to Jervis, who returned his smile. They looked back down at the board and continued on with their game, returning to their own little world with everything else gone. Jervis defeated Crane's lead Pawn with his next move, much to his annoyance.

"Ha! I've drawn the first blood of the match!", Jervis gloated as if he had already won the game.

"Come on doctor! You can take him!", Croc encouraged Crane enthusiastically, slapping him lightly on the back, yet almost with enough force to send Crane sprawling onto the floor.

Unbeknown to both, the heavy footsteps of the two women was closing in on their game, moving towards Crane and Croc's side of the table. Due to his intensity, Crane didn't notice until it hit him in the back of the head.

"Don't let it go to your- Ow!"

A firm openhanded slap struck the base of Crane's head, sending pin pricks of pain shooting thorough it. There was a gasp from one of the women. Rubbing the sore spot, Crane spun around in his chair to face the slender figure who had done it. He found himself glaring deeply up into those unnaturally green eyes, which seemed to literally glow with an otherworldly fire in their depths.

"I was waiting quite some time to do that", Her familiar silky voice said softly. "Welcome back to Arkham, Johnathan dear".

"Red!", Harley objected loudly to her best friend, her free hand shooting up to her mouth in surprise. "Why would ya hit the proffessah?"

Poison Ivy smiled pleasantly back at the thin man, stroking the rose in the pot softly with a slender hand. She waited patiently for his reaction. Crane felt himself explode with anger as he glared, the welcoming darkness returning to his mind.

"What in the hell was that for Isley?", Scarecrow rasped angrily, rising from his chair at the green woman. He advanced a couple steps, his long bony hands clenching furiously. This drew the attention of several patients and guards around the recreation room, but Scarecrow didn't care. "I ought to throttle-

"Batman informed me that you broke into my greenhouse after you escaped Arkham with reptile man here and Dent", Ivy's low sensuous voice informed him smoothly, cutting him off. Off to the side, Croc glared angrily at the comment, but said nothing, his hands curling into fists. "You stole some of my rarest plants for your own experiments and murdered one of my house's guardians with that scythe of yours in the process."

"Now Red", Harley tried to interject. "He had just got out and needed supplies to get going! Your greenhouse is tha only good place to find what he needed and-

Ivy wouldn't hear it, she held up a hand and cut her too off.

"Please Harl, he can speak for himself", She interrupted firmly. "He doesn't need someone else defending him".

Scarecrow rubbed the back of his sore neck as he stared into those gorgeous, accusatory eyes, but was no less resolute.

"What? How in the hell did the little bat-

"Hm... he's the world's greatest detective, isn't he now? How didn't he find out?", Ivy asked with a soft smirk. She absentmindedly ran the smooth pale fingers of her free hand through her gorgeously flowing hair.  
"Apparently you left behind enough evidence anyways with all your blundering. You need to work on your sneaking... fighting skills too perhaps, considering how badly I heard he beat you".

Scarecrow glared at the amused woman. Jervis and Croc from where they sat and Harley from where she stood, on the other hand, watched intently, eyes swiveling back and forth like a fast paced sparring match. Scarecrow bared his teeth at the gorgeous plant woman.

"If the little bat found what I did there, then it mean's he broke in as well and had to face your monster plants. Seems it isn't too difficult to get in if I could", Scarecrow hissed. The eyes behind his new glasses glinted malevolently, taking on a muddy psychotic look. He took another step towards Ivy, who didn't move. "I'm sure you weren't exactly slapping him for breaking in. In fact, your little knight probably got quite the opposite treatment, I'm sure... given what I've been hearing lately"

The toxic queen of crime simply pursed her soft lips and stared off over Scarecrow's shoulder for a moment, seemingly deep in thoughts that had sprung up at his words. Thoughts, Scarecrow had the feeling, involved a pair of sweat soaked body's moving together, joining as one. One of which was far more muscular then the feminine green one. Thoughts, in other words, that made Scarecrow smile nastily.

"It was either that oversized fly-trap died, or me", he added simply with a shrug. "You can guess which I chose. My work must continue at any price"

Ivy's unnaturally green eyes narrowed for the first time as they returned to Scarecrows lightly bruised face, but her smile never left.

"Work? You don't know anything Crane, apart from being a parasite", Ivy replied smoothly. "I'm not mad at Batman because even he doesn't treat my greenhouse like any other heathen would. He does respect plant-life, which you evidently do not. I don't need you breaking into my property, thieving my hard work and killing my beloved pets. You should have been the one to die, not it. Perhaps i need to teach you a lesson in etiquette, Crane ".

The doctor rolled his eyes beneath the glasses.

"Oh? A 'nice' 'non lethal' kiss, by chance?", Scarecrow asked with venomous sarcasm. "Thank you, but I respectfully decline. You've had enough pheromone induced slaves running around for you at your will. Hell, you even have an over sized rat who seems to do it on his own free will".

Poison Ivy let out a simpering laugh.

"A kiss? Make you my slave? No no no", She managed over her quiet gales of mocking laughter. She stopped after a moment and stroked one of the peddles protruding from the rose. "I was thinking more along the lines of a steel tipped crossbow bolt through the gut, followed by you being left to writhe in agony. Much more satisfying an end for one such as you. And who knows? Maybe you'd actually serve a purpose that way: mulch".

Croc exchanged surprised glances across the table at Jervis and continued to watch in mute interest.

"Perhaps you need to ask the little bat to take a break from his vigilante and League duties and become your greenhouse's little security guard each night... I have little doubt he wouldn't. All you'd need to do is lay down in that little garden he sent to your cell, spread your legs for him, again, and let him have his fill of you. From what I heard, the whole cell-block overheard your little activity...".

Harley uttered a gasp of shock at Scarecrow's deadpan words but Ivy rebounded quickly, her eyes shining with triumphant malevolence.

"Jealous perhaps Johnathan? All you predictable men seem to want me, so I'm hardly surprised. You were probably too meek to satisfy that vicious little kitty cat... oh, what's the matter? Did Selina scratch much?"

Scarecrow wasn't moved. Everybody knew about it by now and there was no getting around it. He simply glared right back at those otherworldly eyes, and she continued to strike at him with her words.

"Pleasure isn't all he gives me you know Johnathan...", She whispered coldly. "Personally, I think the present he brought me was just as good as flowers".

"And what might that have been? A nicely written romantic poem titled: 'I'm Batman'?"

"I've never been big on masks, nor wearing them or receiving them as presents... but you know what? I think that torn one soaked through with your very blood is a rather nice addition to my cell".

Scarecrow's jaw slowly dropped as his mind blazed, rapidly remembering what Batman had been carrying when he'd left Crane and Harley in the hallway the other week.

"I hung it up in my cell, it adds a certain... primitive charm to the garden, I find. Perhaps with the proper materials I can turn it into my own little scarecrow for a decoration".

"_Red!_"

_That bastard took my mask with him down to her cell... and she defaced it for her little patch of dirt._

His eyes flashed viciously, his mind searching for the best comeback that would affect her and grasping it.

"I wish you could have been there when it happened, Miss Isley", He whispered darkly. "The way that plant was screaming and writhing in agony as I hacked it apart... it was almost as fun as killing a person. But, you know plants... they exist only to be destroyed and scavenged for human benefit, such as my work... something truly useful. Did you hear it's cries of pain all the way in your cell? You are connected to nature, are you not?".

Ivy's pale cheeks blazed suddenly, crimson with anger. Her eyes took on a muddy look of their own. She set down her tan flowerpot on the carpet below and stood up again. She began to advance on Scarecrow, her intent undoubtedly murderous. Scarecrow started forward too, eyes glinting. Before the guards could act from around the room to stop and separate them, someone else did, causing the guards to stop in their tracks.

"That does it! Stop fightin! Right now!", Harley squealed loudly, finding her voice. She jumped in-between her angry friends and held up a hand to the front of each of them. "That's more then enough!"

They both stopped advancing at her touch, but maintained hateful looks at one another. Harley, suddenly aware that most of the room was watching, lowered her tone so less people could listen in, but didn't lose the urgency.

"You're both actin real silly! Professah, she owned that fly trap for years and loved it! Ivy, he had nowhere else to go for fresh quality supplies after tha breakout! 'Sides, Bud n Lou dig up ya plants all the time! The last thing i want is my best friends fightin eachotha! It's immature! Now please cut it out and make nice! For me?"

She glanced back and forth between them with those over-bright blue eyes. Silence lowered like a curtain over the room, apart from the commercials from the television set. Perhaps it was that urgency and caring intent in Harley's voice, but whatever it was, Ivy stared back at her friend, the mean look on her face slowly fading away. After a few seconds, Crane followed suit and looked away from Ivy, nodding to himself with a sigh.

"Alright. You have a point, no problem with me", He muttered quietly enough so only those close to the table could hear. He didn't like the guards watching him, the sooner they turned away the better. He looked back up into Ivy's now calm eyes. "My sincere apologies Miss Isley, I should have simply avoided the fly trap, not gotten sloppy and have had to confront it".

"You shouldn't have gone in there at all Johnathan", Her silky voice replied tersely. She paused for a moment before adding reluctantly. "But I do understand. It would have taken you too long contacting me for permission.".

All around the room, heads and eyes were starting to turn away one by one. Interest in the confrontation waned and they all resumed their prior activity's within seconds.

"There we go!", Harley said with satisfaction, smiling widely and slapping both hands on her friends shoulders. Crane let out a hiss as it hit the bandaged shoulder where the bullet had struck. "Oops! Sorry! Anyways, I want both of ya shake hands an make it official!"

Both Johnathan and Ivy stared at their happy blond friend in mutual confusion at this seemingly childish gesture. Harley wasn't phased. She gestured with a hand encouragingly for them to go ahead and shake.

"Child, I don't see how-

"Harl this isn't grammar school-

"NOW!", Harley demanded loudly, actually stamping her foot with enough force to cause her friends to jump and reach their hands out towards one another.

Jervis and Croc started snickering to themselves at the table, trying to cover it up, but earning a quick glare from Harley that shut them both up.

Crane's long fingered, almost skeletal hand wrapped around her petite, ethereal green skinned one. Their hands went up and down several times. Despite her size, Ivy had quite a strong grip on her. She flashed Crane a smile as they did so, that he willed himself to return.

This apparently satisfied Harley, who beamed.

"There ya go! No need tah fight eachotha, we got enough problems as it is! If we just bicker among each-otha we can't accomplish anythin around here!".

Ivy smiled again slightly with reluctance and reached back down to the floor, scooping up her flowerpot carefully off the carpet. She turned on her heel and stepped away from the table of villains, advancing slowly towards the trio of couches in front of the television set. To Crane's surprise, Harley didn't follow her friend to the couches.

Harley glanced around the room carefully as she stepped up beside Crane, much to his confusion. Her eyes were blazing with excitement as they met his own. She lowered her voice conspiratorially as if she knew something.

"I needed to tell and give you something Johnathan", She whispered urgently.

"Sorry boys", came Ivy's soft voice in the background. "It's 8:30, time for my gardening program, then Harley's soaps"

"What is it Harley?", Crane whispered back to confusedly. He glanced around too, suddenly feeling paranoid himself. Why was she acting all secretive? "Is everything alright?"

"Give us a break Plant Girl!", complained Nigma angrily from his seat, locking fierce eyes with the beautiful woman. "Sam Saxon is barely ever on!"

"An important letter was sent for ya! It was marked urgent! I need tah give it to you here, but can't let the guards see."

"I don't care, Eddie. I've waited all day to come see my show. You're perfectly free to stay and watch with us, I know how much you and Freeze enjoy soap opera's... lord knows _you_ live in one Victor".

"Why can't you just hand it to me in the open?", Crane asked quietly.

"Cause it ain't a lettah you'd want ol Sharpy to get his wrinkled hands on, and it was sent through our underground! Remembah?"

He did indeed remember. The patients of Arkham Asylum had, many months prior, created an underground system of having various goods and letters typically delivered from the outside Gotham underworld. Unfortunately due to the high tech scanners, donated by Waynetech, at the asylum, they were unable to sneak in weapons as of yet. His curiosity was reaching a high spot now. A letter for him? Crane had never received a single letter in all his years at the asylum.

Crane glanced over to the table, eyes stopping upon the giant Killer Croc sitting at the table. Croc glanced his reptilian eyes back up to Crane and nodded almost imperceptibly. Evidently he had heard the whispering and knew what Crane had in mind.

_He's big enough to hide Harley passing the letter to me from the guards._

He looked back over to Harley and motioned for her to take the seat next to Croc he had just vacated. She nodded and obeyed silently, sitting down carefully. Crane drew up another chair from the table, putting it close to Harley and sitting down. He glanced around the broad shoulders of Croc. None of the guards were watching, and even if they glanced up, from where they stood they could only see Croc's hulking frame chatting with Jervis, not the two others right next to him.

Harley turned her head in Croc's direction for a moment and grinned. He turned his attention away from the blond Englishman and focused upon the blond Hench-wench with his narrowed scarlet eyes disapprovingly.

"Hey, you make a pretty good shield Lizard Man!", She whispered loudly, patting his scaly arm appreciatively. "Thanks!"

Croc's massive, scaly fists laying flat on the table tightened into a ball. He uttered a slight growl mixed with a curse at this name, baring his ferocious teeth, but Harley didn't notice. She was already spinning back around in her chair to talk to her bespectacled best friend.

Behind Crane, Freeze's monotone voice groaned tiredly at Ivy's suggestion and continued persistence. The metal suited man stood up from his couch and shook his domed head bitterly. The rest of the patients followed suit, rising from the three couches, filing around the couches and past the table, shooting dirty look's at the green woman as they moved towards one of the pool table's on the far opposite side of the room.

"Forget it. I'd rather jump off a bridge and into a pit of boiling lava then watch your soap opera's, Isley." Freeze informed Ivy, stepping away from the television set too. "Sitting in my cell is a nice alternative."

Harley reached a hand down the front of her grey shirt and groped around awkwardly for a moment, causing Croc to avert his eyes back to Jervis. Jervis glanced up at the ceiling with his hands crossed, as if the roof panels were the most interesting things in the world.

She pulled out the small white envelope hidden away in her bra, passing it over covertly to Crane's long fingered hands. Harley watched as He turned it over and spotted what was written on the front with a bold marker: _**Crane, Urgent.**_His eyes moved across the envelope, spotting the long tear covering the side. He glanced up to notice her sheepish look of guilt. She squirmed under Crane's accusatory stare.

"Jumping off a bridge sounds like a good plan", Ivy's voice replied silkily. She waved her free hand delicately. "Ta Ta Victor dear".

"Sorry professah", Harley whispered shamefully, looking away. "I couldn't help myself... you know how hard it is for me not to open things."

He did know. This habit was especially most evident during Christmas at the asylum. Last year's Christmas she had peaked at most of her presents from the others early. His piercing stare vanished slowly and he nodded, causing her to smile beautifully again.

"I had a theory who it was sendin ya the lettah and couldn't resist! I was right, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised!"

"How did you procure the letter, child?"

"Puppet-head passed it off to me! Arnold was gettin the next shipment of items, and apparently there it was sittin in the crate!"

Crane adjusted his glasses slightly and made a mental note to thank the Ventriloquist the next time he saw him, along with requesting a brand new gas mask and materials to get started working on.

Freeze's pencil thin eyebrows narrowed, but he said no more. Rather then following his cronies over to the pool table, he moved all the way to the main door guards at the front of the room and talked to them for a moment. A pair of them nodded and escorted him out the room and back to his cell.

Nigma rose too, his face taking on an expression of utter distaste. He shot a glare to Ivy, who maintained her smug expression. He turned and stepped over to her, stiffly offering the remote, which she took casually. Ivy walked past Riddler over the carpeting and took a seat in the center of the middle couch, crossing her legs and setting down the flowerpot on the wooden coffee table. The Riddler started to stomp off, away from the room, yet paused long enough to shoot a cold remark over his shoulder like a bullet.

"I'd best get out of here before you go activate the Bat Signal you undoubtedly have hidden away somewhere in your cell".

Ivy scowled over at him from the couch and crossed her arms, but said nothing to the riddle spewing madman, who left with a smirk of clear satisfaction in spite of losing the television.

Riddler, like Freeze, apparently decided he'd had enough of the recreation room and didn't make his way to the pool tables like the others had. Approaching the door, he came to a stop. Another pair of guards broke off from conversation and took either side of Edward's arms, escorting him out the door without looking back.

Poison Ivy aimed the remote at the set and switched the channel. There was a flicker as it obeyed, the image of Sam Saxon's handsome grinning face disappearing rapidly, being replaced by that of an elderly woman tending to her plants in a large greenhouse. She lay the remote at her side and looked backwards over her shoulder towards the group huddled around the chess table.

"Hurry up Harl!", Ivy called loudly, turning back to the television and leaning back on the couch. "It's on right now!".

"Comin Red!", Harley called back quickly. "Just gimme a minute!"

Back over at the chess table, Harley patted Johnathan's thin arm and gave him a warm, knowing look.

"Bettah hide it and go read it in your cell right away!", She whispered excitedly. "Next time ya see me, let me know what ya are gonna do about it!".

"Of course".

Crane scratched his forehead and nodded, stuffing the envelope under his grey uniform and shirt underneath. He smoothed the outfit to keep the letter from making any noticeable ripples. He glanced around and leaned forward, close to Harley's ear.

"Thank you child, as always I appreciate the assistance", He added quietly.

Harley beamed radiantly, her cheeks turning crimson with delight. She reached out her arms and embraced the thin man in the chair beside her around his neck.

"No need to thank me so much Professah, I'm simply helpin my best friend"", she replied, giving him a kiss on the cheek pulling back finally. Crane rubbed the spot unconsciously, ignoring the blush threatening to form there. Both of them stood back up from the their respective seats together. After a moment's hesitation and playing with a pig tail, Harley glanced at Crane and added. "I gotta ask though... this might seem a little random, but, do I jabber?"

"Huh? What do you mean dear?"

"Do I talk too much?"

Right behind her, Croc and Jervis exchanged incredulous looks and stared in Crane's direction. Together, they nodded frantically and mouthed an obvious 'Yes'.

Crane, however, knew better then to say such a thing.

"No child, you don't. I find you speak well. You musnt doubt how you talk, as how we each speak depends upon our personality".

Behind him, Croc mimed vomiting and Jervis buried his face in both of his hand. Harley smiled and blushed again.

"Thank you professah, that's reassuring tah hear. If you'll excuse me, I gotta go see Red's gardenin show! Then find out what happened to Billy and Allie after their plane crash! Enjoy your lettah!"

Harley blew him a kiss and gave a simpering wave as she moved away from the table and towards the center couch Ivy relaxed upon. She took a seat next to her beautiful red headed friend and put her own feet up on the coffee table, folding her hands behind her blond head and sighing.

Crane glanced down to the table at the pair who had remained mostly quiet and watching throughout, locking eyes with them. He shrugged his bony shoulders, a habit, as Jervis smiled politely with those overbitten teeth to him. As much as Jervis tried to hide the interest from his features, they were still very obvious.

"I must be going", he informed Croc and Jervis quietly. "I'll talk to you both later".

"What about our game Johnathan?", Jervis complained, his tone hushed. "It was just getting exciting! Can't your letter wait until the round is up?"

Crane shook his head patiently.

"Sorry Jervis, I need to find out what's going on right away. It can't wait. Croc here can take over for me instead".

"Hey! All right!" Croc declared loudly, grinning at these words enthusiastically. He moved his massive frame over a seat so he sat directly across from Jervis. "Count me in!"

Jervis on the other hand, looked far less then pleased at this outcome, a slightly bitter expression rising to his face as Croc's red slit eyes surveyed the pieces eagerly, planning his first move.

"He's more likely to eat the chess board then he is to play!", Jervis complained, causing Croc's head to snap up. Rather then looking angry though, his scaly features were embarrassed.

"I only did that once!", he protested with all the innocence possible in a giant crocodile. "Dent was Cheating!"

"Cheating?", cried Jervis, turning away from Crane. "How the bloody hell do you cheat at chess?"

"He was-"

Crane used their welcome bickering as a distraction to leave. In their furor, they didn't notice him slip away. He paced across the room carefully, stepping around the groups of chatting patient and moving towards the main door. When he was halfway there, the chatting guards at the front broke off from conversation and turned to face him, expressions hardening. Crane stepped past a patient mumbling to herself and addressed the lead guard in the middle who didn't wear a helmet.

Lieutenant Nolan. He was a large, beefy man hefting a long M4 in one hand. The man was a seven year veteran who had had contact with each of the villains... and despised them. Crane had to admit, he was one of the worst guards in this place. Worse still, he usually had it out for Crane.

At Arkham Asylum, your guards came in as much variety as the patients. There were four major classes, however. You had your friendly naive ones, who were normally rookies, your tough but fair one's, like officer Cash, your borderline abusive ones and last but not least: the ones who belonged locked up with the patients. Nolan treaded the line between the latter two. Crane was sure that the warden knowingly kept the abusive, unstable ones on the staff, approving of their actions... ordering them even.

"Nolan."

"Going back to your cell too freak?"

_Bait. He wants you to react so he can bash your face open again like he did last month. Freak? how many time's have you heard that one now? When it comes to inventing insults, the guards here have an imagination with about as much variety expected from a member of the Green Lantern Corps._

"Yes."

"Yes _SIR_", he corrected with that disgusting brutish grin of his that inspired rage within the doctor. How Crane ached for the day he would take his syringes to the bastard's neck and laugh in his face as he did it. The day he would pump so many terror inducing chemicals into the bastards veins that it would replace every cell of the man's very blood. "You address your superiors with Sir, Crane. Remember?"

Crane's eyes narrowed behind his horn-rimmed glasses. He wasn't particularly in the mood for this bullshit right now, to be honest, he needed to get out of here. Now. He could handle the abusive consequences of defiance later. It was worth that stupid grin being knocked off the guard's face, and right now the contents of what lay within the envelope digging into his sore skin mattered more to him.

"Yes, _Nolan_", Crane replied defiantly. There was no way in hell he was knuckling under to this fascist pig clearly egging him on with the taunts.

Nolan's thin eyebrows furrowed darkly and his guards shifted awkwardly. Few people ever mouthed off the Lieutenant... he always seemed to get his way.

"Excuse me? I didn't hear you correctly?"

"But you did. You aren't deaf, nor is this is this a military Nolan... and I have no superiors. Get over yourself. The bat could take lessons on possessing an over-sized ego even from you".

Nolan smiled coldly and slowly reached down to his side for the midnight black nightstick that hung from his belt, but Crane motioned with a thumb over his shoulder behind himself to his fellow villains scattered all around the room.

"Beat me in front of the others and you'll have a major riot on your hands. I know that everyone here is already aching to be the one to to take off your head and rid us of you".

There was silence, penetrated only by the background chatter as Nolan glared hard into Crane's dead, emotionless eyes. The two guards beside Nolan exchanged cautious glances. The stare off was finally broken when the lieutenant let out one of his big stupid laughs.

"Then I'll just have to pay you a visit some other day", He whispered to Crane. "Sometime when all your psycho friends aren't around... and when you least expect it"

"I can hardly wait".

"I _own_ you... 'Scarecrow', and I'll have whatever I wish done to you and the others. The sooner you accept that fact, the better"

"Better for whom, might I ask? The sooner _you_ accept that your _end_ draws close would be far wiser I think".

Lieutenant Nolan turned away in disgust to the younger guard's at his sides, each of whom held Shotgun's tightly. They stood straighter, as if waiting for an inspection. He reached into his pant pocket and dug out a large set of keys. They jangled as he passed them off to the female officer, who put them into the front pocket of her armored vest quickly.

"Maria, Frank, take this freak back down to his cell-block. You know where that is I'm sure".

"Yes sir!", they parroted together, moving to Crane's side.

The lieutenant sneered at Crane, turned his head then stomped off towards another young guard near the pool table who had lit a cigarette and was conversing with a patient. As he made it to the table, he instantly started taking out his anger on the guard, chewing him out loudly for being friendly to the prisoners. The young guard put out his cigarette and hung his head.

"You must be crazy, man", Officer Maria Andrade muttered to Crane, grabbing his left arm firmly and turning him to the door. "Pissing him off like that. He's too damn strict for that talk..."

Crane smiled politely.

"I simply don't live under anyone's thumb", he replied to the young woman. "Perhaps it's something you'll learn to do yourself, one day"

"Uh... Come on you, let's just get going"

From the look of her, her demeanor, she fell easily into the rookie category. Her expression held that optimistic determination, yet the eyes betrayed fear of the villain. Officer Frank Boles on the other hand, Crane knew, was an savage at heart, like Nolan. It was only a matter of time before it sprung loose. He stood behind Crane, his shotgun at the ready, aimed at Crane's back in case he tried anything.

"Move you freak", He ordered quietly, his eyes narrowing dangerously, exemplifying the scar that ran across one of them, courtesy of the asylums said freaks."_Now_"

Crane obeyed, allowing Andrade to guide him through the open doors and out the recreation room. The dim light of the hallway was relaxing, as there was less intensity. Together the villain and the guards moved together down the ever winding hallway, brushing past orderlies. The rec room door slammed shut behind him, shutting away the din of the patients. The bang bounced back and forth off the walls and echoed throughout, fading in mere seconds.

As the rec room grew smaller behind them with each step, they turned a corner, heading down towards the Asylum's main elevator. Soon they were gone once more.

* * *

**And there you go... many references in this one, where to begin? I wanted to balance the humor in this chapter with the fact that, truly, there are some Batman characters who just cannot be put in humorous situations, my small inclusions of Zsasz sitting in his corner, and (chosen for their respective craziness and less then healthy appearances) Firefly and Jane Doe sitting near each-other, all three so completely overwhelmed and controlled by their respective insanity's that they cannot communicate to one another in the way the other villains of the chapter can, the ones capable of forming rivalry's and friendships. I needed to convey that not all of them are on the same level mentally. Croc, who was based on a mixture of Arkham Asylum version, comics version and the animated series version, was staring angrily at Zsasz because of a story in which he wanted to kill the serial killer, but was prevented by Leslie Thompkins. Croc's mention of 'Mary', refers to the villainess of the animated series, Babydoll. Freeze of course hearkens back to his original portrayal in the animated series... I have mentioned his liaison with the super villainess of ice Killer Frost, for they shared some comic issues together... and although it turned out she was using him, I prefer in this universe that she was not. Victor has suffered enough... particularly in the cartoon, and deserves someone. I don't believe my Freeze has given up on curing Nora... but he is only human, and found someone who can relate to him as he continues his work.**

** Ahhh Riddler xD, based him off the arkhamverse and a little of the old Superfriends cartoon ;). He and Scarecrow served quite prominently on the Legion of Doom, and I wanted to add that to the canon... just that it didn't quite play out as silly as the old cartoon im sure xD. The selection of Riddler and Freeze as rivals, I admit, was completely random. His encounter with a 'man with no face' refers to an encounter with The Question, who gave him a nervous breakdown. Luthor, man of steel, you know what I'm getting at. Many of the Gotham villains just don't get along with their Metropolis counterparts xD. I made mention of a pair of Green Lanterns appearing together for an interview, one of whom I love, the other of whom i despise with a passion, hence Scarecrows throught regarding the limited imagination of a member of the Green Lantern Corps ;) hint hint, which one is in the corps?. 'Sam Saxon', is of course a reference to V for Vendetta... wonderful comic, I highly recommend it.  
**

** Ivy, whom I will show in another story i did, showing her in further detail, was based in part by the Arkhamverse for much of her appearance (many of those tattoo-like vines being kept hidden by her jumpsuit in this one) and I adapted much of her personality from the comics and animated series. I believe her and Scarecrow have much in common, buuut Johnny made the big mistake of stealing from her and killing a plant. *shakes head*. Mad Hatter is mainly adapted off the animated version, for I'm not big on the idea in these new comics that he's suddenly become a pedophile xD. He and Scarecrow have long had a friendship, as quite evident in The Long Halloween... but I couldn't very well have them speaking in nothing but limericks, now could I? ;). Harley Quinn shows up again, of course, being Crane's confidant... plus I wanted to keep with her girlish and gossipish nature by having her nose through Crane's mail... as you see, she also holds the power to keep her best friends from murdering one another.**

**Ok, I had to do it at least once in the story hahaha... It's quite unfair of me, and by no means do I want to seem mean for it, but I had to make reference to Nolan and Bale's franchises, and how much they twisted their particular view of the Batman franchise with what I feel were many poor decisions in story and characters. Crane suffered greatly being projected onto the screen with their vision xD and is scarcely a remnant of what he should have been. I have never been interested in his overly realistic portrayal of everything, and while I respect the franchise, none of it struck me as being truly in spirit with Batman as the works by Tim Burton.**

**This was quite a fun chapter to write... but unfortunately... we are very nearly over. Don't feel down my friends, there is still a little more. See you next time ;).**


	14. Chapter 14: And in The End

**NURSE J0Y: I'm not surprised to hear you got them all Miss Quinn, you're pretty much the female version of me when it comes to Batman haha, and as for the nature of your prize, I'd say your on the right track with that guess ;). Drop by the Batcave sometime, could be fun xDD.  
**

**Well, here we are friends, at the end of the story at last. It's been a long trip (mainly due to all the distractions keeping updates slow xD) But i've managed to get it all wrapped up... well... mainly wrapped up, as you shall read ;). Yet, before we truly reach the end, there is yet one final section. Without further ado, I present the conclusion :).**

* * *

**Level A High Security Block  
**

The elevator ride down into the heart of the Asylum had felt like it had taken days. The scanning machine's process after arriving at the level A high security block, weeks. Thank god that machine couldn't see the envelope pressing against his bony chest. He had been all cleared to go.  
Crane's curiosity at what lay within the letter weighed down on his mind, slowing down time to a near stand still. Horrible desperation was starting to take over, kept barely in check through sheer willpower. Everyone was moving too slow. Why didn't they just hurry up and get him to his cell?

The sooner he read it the better.

Crane ignored every patient, guard and orderly they passed, staring down at his feet and letting himself be guided. The screams and jabbering from certain cells he passed didn't interest him in the slightest. He was stuck in his mind amidst the ever growing torrent of thoughts.

_Who would write me? And why?_

The two closed cells facing one another on opposite sides of the walls, at the very end of the block, belonged to none other then Harley Quinn and Scarecrow. It had been their cell's for years now.

Passing at least a dozen heavily armed guards pacing up and down the block, the trio finally made it to the end and turned to the right wall, coming to a stop in front of his cell. Crane glanced at the name written at head level next to the cell door's black bars in large letters:

**Cell 24-45-34 : J, Crane**

_Home. For the moment._

He had complained to Sharpe about getting _**Dr**_ placed up there in front of his name... alas, to no avail. Apparently psychotics didn't merit the right to have titles.

Maria slowly removed her tight grip from around Crane's arm. He watched as the helmeted young woman reached into her armored vest for the keys to the numerous locks on the tall steel door. Once she found them, she began inserting each into the different slots and turning. Finally after several locks, she popped the door open with a pull of the handle.

"There you go man, have yourself a good rest".

The heavy door creaked sinisterly as it swung open widely, coming to a stop. The light from the cell block slowly illuminated the contents of the dank smelling, dark cell, each wall around it and the floor beneath composed of solid grey concrete slabs. In the corner next to his rusty metal sink sat Crane's small one person bed against the wall, it's small, dark covers laying messily on the top. A single, small pillow lay at the end of the bed. It was about as comfortable as laying one's head upon a rock.

The toilet installed in the cell, was crudely attached to the wall opposite the sad excuse for a bed. A single flimsy light bulb was attached to the middle of the ceiling, a little rusty chain hung off it. A single tug would illicit the dull glow the cells main generators gave, provided the guards had them turned on. At night when everyone was back in their cells, the lights were not permitted in the slightest...one more of Sharp's fascist rules.

Crane was about to move forward, inside, when he felt Frank's gloved hand shove into his back, nearly throwing him off his feet as he stumbled.

"Get your scrawny ass in there you crooked nosed freak"

Frank Boles pushed the thin man again roughly, right into the small cell. He collapsed painfully onto the ground in the center of the cell on his knees. As the throbbing pulsed up his long legs, he felt the letter beginning to slip and clasped a hand over his chest to stop it. It came to a stop. Standing back up, he adjusted his glasses, ignoring the guard's abuse with a massive amount of willpower.  
He reached up and flicked on the light. It's fluorescent glow illuminated the already bright cell from the light outside. The professor turned back around to the large doorway and stared expressionlessly at the rough faced guard and the nervous looking one beside him.

"You may leave now", he informed them quietly. "If that will be all"

Maria turned to her older colleague and rubbed her shoulder slightly, unsure for a moment if it was wise to speak up. Finally, in a hesitant sort of voice, she did.

"Frank, I don't think you should follow the Lieutenant's example... it isn't wise to abuse the patients".

Officer Boles shot a dirty look at his fellow guard.

"This scum murders police officer's like they're bugs, Rookie", His low voice growled. "He's fit only to be treated like the vermin he is, just like the rest of them".

"I know all that, it's just-

Frank made a cutting gesture with his hand and Maria fell silent, glancing down at her boots.

"End of discussion Rookie."

"Rookie?", Inquired Crane thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "I get the distinct impression she's better at her job then you are".

Frank shot a nasty smile in Crane's direction, he brushed past Maria and gripped the handle of the tall door. In one fluent motion he slammed it shut, the bang echoing around inside the small space as it sealed like a tomb.

"Have some good nightmares in there Crane", Officer Boles rough face growled between the gaps in the steel bars. There was the familiar jangling of keys as Frank grabbed the keys from the young woman and began locking up the cell door. After several clicks and snaps, his face appeared back in view.  
"We ought lock all of you up and leave you to rot or send you straight to the chair. None of your can be cured and never will be".

With that, the pair of guards stepped away from the cell door's bars and left, the sound of their boots echoing in the distance as they slowly faded. Crane sighed deeply, reaching a long fingered hand down his grey uniform, avoiding the stitches and removing the white envelope that lay beneath.  
_  
_He was alone once more, finally.

_**Hello again doctor.**_

Well, not quite alone.

_Welcome back, I take it you're as curious about the letter as I am?'_

_**No.**_

_Excuse me?_

_**I think I already know who sent it. Go right ahead and read on, my dear doctor.**__  
_  
Crane's forehead wrinkled confusedly. Turning around, he moved over to the small bed lying on the floor, sitting down upon the sheets carefully. He shimmied over the bed until his back was pressed against the cold concrete wall. He felt safe with something against his back. Nothing could sneak up on him.

Johnathan Crane cradled the envelope between his pale long fingered hands, wondering who could have possibly sent it to him. He had no real friends and few acquaintances outside Arkham Asylum. His mind was blank on drawing any solid conclusions.

_Here goes nothing._

After a long moment's pause, he reached inside the torn, courtesy of Harley, envelope and removed the large, folded piece of lined paper that lay within. Despite having unfolded it delicately, the several pieces of paper were wrinkled, yet the dark ink of the printing was as clear as day. To Crane's trained eye from years of marking papers, the handwriting style appeared rather feminine and loopy in appearance. Adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses nervously, he read it aloud, his voice becoming a mere anxious whisper in the small cell.

* * *

**_-Johnathan_**

**After much consideration, I decided to wait a week before sending this through the asylum's underground to give you a chance to recover from what happened that night. It took a lot to get this to the asylum, I had to go through Black Mask to get it there, and you know how I feel about him. He agreed to have his contact at Arkham, Ventriloquist, deliver it. I'll trust that the Ventriloquist was able to get this to you, If not, I'll consider shooting Sionis right in that demented grinning face of his.**

**I hope Batman and the police didn't harm you too much and that all the wounds are healing up well. (I know how hypocritical that sounds). You might have seen me perched up in that alleyway watching, because I saw your head turn my way before leaving. I was there to make sure he didn't decide to kill you. I wasn't surprised to see you got out of the handcuff's, nor after hearing on the news that you murdered Five swat team members, even after all those injuries I gave you before hand. You showed me that despite your lack of great physical strength, your drive and inability to give up keeps you going.**

**I know you are very angry with me for what I did, and I understand, but I need to give you the truth. It's the least you deserve. I want you to know I didn't lie to you once that night. I hid the truth instead... that isn't much better, so allow me to explain everything and why I did what I did. Once you have all the information available, you can decide the next course of action to take.**

**Well over a year ago while I was still in Arkham, Batman paid me a visit one night. This was back when we were still lovers. He explained to me that he'd managed to make a deal from Sharpe and Commissioner Gordon that would secure my release from that hellhole, on the condition that I continue helping him with his war on crime, as I had done sometimes before my arrest. He convinced them I wasn't psychotic like the patients there. The chance to get out and be with him again... I took it without a moment's hesitation.**

**Once I was out, I moved into the Batcave with him. It was a perfect time, our relationship had finally grown strong. We worked well together, patrolling the city nightly and beating down muggers, catching a stray costumed freak whenever they escaped Arkham... but it was another thing that happened five months later that drew my interest. Batman informed me he was attempting to gather information on the cloudy past's of certain villains in his rogue's gallery. Although he knew the vague details of most the villain's, he wanted to find out what he might have been missing. Mainly, he was searching for anything that would give insight on the past of the Joker. I helped him out, and together we went through so many files and articles from years prior. Much to our disappointment, we came up dry on anything involving Joker. According to him it wasn't the first time he's looked for something about the clown. Discouraged, we focused our attention on the others instead, mainly upon Killer Croc, Deadshot, Poison Ivy and you. Croc's past was interesting, as was Deadshot's. I had never taken the time to even consider how much the others have suffered. I wasn't the only one. With everything I read, I was more intrigued, but it was when we started focusing on Ivy and you that I was taken by complete surprise.**

**The more we learned, the more interesting things got. Batman didn't show it, but I got the distinct impression he was a bit more interested in Isley's past then he was about yours. I suppose now that I think about it, it's a little funny. I was much more interested the days we were focusing on you. As i told you that night, me and Batman searched for witnesses who had known about you and your early years. We discovered that man who had once bullied you, that you paralyzed after forcing him off the road. On my own, however, i left the Batcave one night to pursue a lead I had found out about when Batman wasn't present. It was an old classmate of yours from grammar school all the way into high-school. She was reluctant at first, but was finally willing to talk after seeing how determined I was to get an answer. She informed me that you were likely abused, that you had came to school often with various wounds and lacerations. I learned you had a bad family life, having never known your father and suffering neglect. Some things were missing of course, as the witness didn't know everything. The only person who could possibly paint the whole picture of your life was you.**

**You fascinated me, Johnathan. While the others had suffered too in their past...yours spoke to me the most. You remember of course, a few years back when Two Face hired you, me, Ivy, Joker, Tetch, Cobblepot and that hulking thing... Grundy, to help him finish off the Falcone crime family? I know I never forgot it. When we broke into Falcone's office for our meeting together, as we waited for 'The Roman' to return, not too long before Two Face executed Falcone, I recall how quiet you were throughout (save those times in which you spoke to that top hat wearing friend of yours in nothing but creepy limericks) While the others were discussing things or arguing, there you were off to the side... just staring out the window. **

**You didn't say much at all that night until I moved over from the others and prompted you into talking... into speaking plainly, without the limericks. It was then I noticed how uptight you were and close lipped about your self personally.  
I remembered how quiet you were back at Arkham too, usually reading from one of your science books, listening to Harley's constant jabbering or playing a game of chess with Tetch. You seemed to disappear into the background like you were apart of it, continually deep in your own thoughts. The few times I actually spoke to you, like we did ever so briefly back in Falcone's office, you always had a far off look in your eyes and never really seemed to be there. Now, after all this time I finally understood why.**

**Over the next few months, apart from researching you, however, a lot happened. Despite our relationship going well at first, the bat and I slowly drifted apart. We started getting into arguments and fighting frequently. The final straw was about two months ago, when Batman had been investigating a strange series of deaths. He insisted on visiting the asylum by himself, where he apparently ran into Ivy. He thought she could help somehow, as the deaths were plant spore related. He arranged to have her leave (ha ha. Wonderful. Now I sound like that sick clown) with him to investigate the cause. I complained to him about it, but nevertheless, he insisted I not go with them. Apparently they shared an interesting time together. All i know is that it involved him being poisoned and cured by her, along with the executive who wanted that skyscraper built. Before long he brought her back to that dank cell of hers. I thought it was over, but then i found out from some of my sources within the asylum he'd filled an entire damn cell with flowers and plants for her, and made sure she was permitted to wear that costume while in there.**

**So, me and the bat fought more over that little event. It started to look like he was more interested in plants then feline's...who'd have thought, huh?**

**Your wondering, I'm sure, what this all has to do with what happened a week ago. Our arguing grew progressively worse when we couldn't find the Joker after his escape, and much worse as he grew closer to that plant woman of his, actually visiting her at the asylum some nights after out city patrols. It got to the point that I started leaving alone nights and wandering the city again...robbing some places now and then, but mostly looking for more information on you that the Batcomputer didn't find. Finding the pieces of the puzzle concerning your life had become a drive of mine, every bit of information mattering. It interested me far more then arguing with that plant lover.**  
**Finally, last week, I'd had enough. It was clear things were falling apart with Batman and we didn't feel the same about each other any longer. After returning to the Batcave that morning, I told him so. He stared at me for a long time, and nodded, deciding it would be best to end it.**

**I would have left right then and there, but he reminded me that I still had to help him. He told me, much to my barely contained surprise, that that very morning, Two Face, Killer Croc...and you, had escaped the asylum. Batman needed me to go after one of you while he went after the others. He promised that if I helped him, our arrangement would end, and I'd be free to leave. I have to confess though... that isn't the only reason I agreed. Batman has saved my life in the past, and I owed it to him to help, even if I hadn't been stuck with the arrangement. He had tracked you down first after discovering you paying a visit in the underworld. He was in another disguise when he saw you. After realizing Ivy's unoccupied greenhouse was the best source for your ingredients, he went there.**

** Soon, your whereabouts downtown were easily traced. Because of this, it meant I needed to preoccupy you while he went and found the other two, and until the Police could arrive to arrest you. He had arranged with Gordon to catch you all simultaneously, rather then one at a time.  
However there was something good in this for me: a possibility to fill in the rest of the puzzle's missing pieces.**

**I chose you, obviously. And that night was one of the most exciting and enjoyable I've had in years. I have the feeling it was the same for you. Not only did I learn about you first hand, what happened in your childhood to make you what you are today... but I was able to give you the warmth and contact that you so desperately needed, and the experience of unwinding. Truthfully, I don't think I've ever felt more comadarie for someone then I did for you. You don't know anything of my life, but I'll fill you in with a bit.**  
**I was orphaned and raised on the streets, often alone, neglected, starving...terrified of the people who lived around me, bullied and belittled constantly. Eventually I went into prostitution for a small stretch... there was no other way. Every day was a struggle to survive with my closest friend, Holly, with the worst element of this city right there staring into my face. Spitting into my face, more like it.**

**We got out of it though, and I turned my attention to stealing to pay for everything. It was a natural talent of mine.**

**That wasn't the only catalyst for my being this way. It was just the beginning. You remember I mentioned having a bad day? I had one alright... and it woke me up to the world. You see, eventually, I managed to get out of my thieving ways, and managed to get a real, honest job... this was after Holiday's spree, and it was a safe way to get off the street. I was eventually accepted as a secretary to one of Gotham's company's. It went wonderfully at first... but my boss, the chairman, turned out to be a maniac and an ambitious criminal. I managed to ignore his cruel, dominating attitude for about a year... but over time, he just got worse and worse. I wanted to get out, I was considering going back to thievery but hadn't the nerve. I didn't really want to go back into that life, taking those risks all over again. Soon, that choice was taken out of my hands.**  
**One night around Christmas Eve, while I was there having to work late, however, he came back to the office unexpectedly. I had been searching through his files for something... and he saw me. He went ballistic. I fought back, hurt him pretty bad... but he grabbed me, and, well... he threw me out the window.**

**We were six or seven stories up from the ground, Johnathan.**

**I don't... I don't remember, even now, how I survived. I chose not to consider it. I remember...regaining consciousness in a snow covered alley, hearing the meow of a cat... and finding myself quite alone, sore and cold. I managed to get home to a girl I live with... but when I got there, I'd had enough of it.**

**I broke down. I couldn't take it anymore. After wrecking a few things about the apartment, and a night of hunting for it, I found my catsuit at the back of my closet, tore it apart and redesigned it in a way that made more sense to who I am. Ripping apart at the seams.**  
**Eventually, I managed to get my revenge on that sick bastard for what he did... but when I was done with him, there was nothing else. There was no chance at going back to a normal job or life. I didn't really want one anymore. So, I went back into thievery... this time, as a new Catwoman.**

**All that pain and bitterness is still there and always will be... even the times I was happy again, it was always there, as I believe yours must be for you... but we each were drawn to choose a similar way of freeing ourselves of it.  
We hide ourselves in our costumes and try to get through the life Gotham gives us, pursuing our goals to the end. No matter how much we try to escape it, even when the villains of this city actually do leave for awhile, It just draws us back like a beacon, and we're helpless before it's alluring effect.**

**I regretted the necessity... but I had to cuff you to that table, Johnathan. There was simply no other way around it. I've been thinking about that night this whole week. What we shared together in that grubby apartment.**

**So there you go, the truth that you're entitled to. There is, however, one last, important thing. You might have been wondering why, after all that, I stopped your exploring hand right there on that table. I admit, I was fully inclined to tear off the rest of that shabby outfit and take you right then and there. It was all the more tempting after having beaten you around the room, the pure excitement and thrill of our battle. I will conclude this long letter with the reason, and extend an offer I'm sure you'll find... interesting.**

**I'm a woman, and must be treated as such. I can't be taken for granted, Johnathan. That's exactly where Batman went wrong, yet perhaps you won't. Time will tell. No-one may have me easily, they must prove how much they want to be with me by showing the tremendous effort required to handle me.**

** You've seen my playful side first hand, so I'm sure you won't be too surprised to hear this. I propose that if you ever find away out of your cage again, my little crow, track me down and put up another worthy struggle, as I know you are capable of doing: I'll make it well worth your while. Not just in That way either (men are predictable in this regard, even you to a degree). I can offer much more then that, you just need to get to know me better. The sheer fun we could have together around this city is almost unimaginable. We could easily be Gotham's number one crime duo, your mind, my might, our will. Together in a relationship.**

**If you want me, that's your way forward to be with me.**

**If you want me, Johnathan... you're going to have to chase me.**

**-S.K.**

Crane's dazed eyes lowered to a bright smudge that lay patiently right below the young woman's initials. It was the unmistakable sight of bloody red lipstick, in the form of a pair of lips.

A kiss for a Crow.

* * *

Numbness. That's the word that best described Johnathan Crane at the moment he lowered the letter's crinkled pages down on his lap. He had read the entire note multiple times, taking in every word until he couldn't read any more. Without seeing, knowing or feeling what he was doing, he folded the pages in half again and stuffed them back into the torn envelope. He turned around to the top of the bed and slipped it casually underneath the pillow that lay there.

Removing his horn-rimmed glasses, he set them down at his side, stopping to focus on the floor. He looked up robotically, detached from his surroundings and stared at the wall blankly, his pale, scarred face a mask of the unknown.

Silence. The only sounds were the faint chatter and patter of feet from somewhere down the cell block, all of which he was quite oblivious to at the moment. Finally, that ever present voice spoke up again, rousing his focus and consciousness back to earth. It sounded oddly alien and distorted, however. No longer the rasping hiss in his ear, it held a note of cold, almost tired amusement.

_**So tell me doctor... what are you going**__** to do about this?**_

_You... you knew._

_**Not everything, no... but certainly more then you did until reading that letter, anyway.**_

_When? What do you mean?_

The other laughed icily. It was a chilling sound that carried through the corridors of Crane's mind, but it was not altogether unpleasant as it had been before.

_**You underestimate the extents of my power in here, as you always have. You view me solely as the representation of the Scarecrow you turned into... but I've become so much more then that over the years as you gave me life with your obsessive drive. **_

_What the hell are you talking about? I don't understand._

_**Hardly surprising. You see, I'm at the base of your mind doctor. I pick up on the things you don't understand at the time of viewing them. I sat back and watched the pair of you as you talked and touched with Miss Kyle. I sat back and watched you talk with Miss Quinn, not interrupting. I warned you last week that I was watching everything, didn't I? I can see it all, even when I don't influence your thinking. I gather evidence and draw conclusions you miss. I knew she was truly interested in you, Contrary to my lies and spurring you to hate her.**_

_Why do you go against me and my will at times? Not wanting me to confide anything in others?_

_**I've watched as you fumbled around in the dark, stuck in your ignorance. You know what you were before you had me... without my guidance. You would have killed your self years ago, the cruelty of this city would have beat you. You assume I go against you? I work for both of us. I fuel the drive for vengeance you require. I keep us alive. We share one mind, for better or worse... even if you choose to still maintain some control over it and rudely shut me out sometimes. When I'm harsh to you, there's a damn good reason for it. My severity and our conflicts make you the man you are today. You just never realized it.**__  
_  
The voice fell silent again for a moment, allowing the doctor to catch up. Crane attempted to process the new information, it's torrent almost overwhelming. Like the snap of a whip, finally, he understood what the other was getting at.  
_**  
**__You are trying to say that we complete each-other._

_**Precisely doctor... you're learning, at last. Now, back to the matters at hand: you need to make a choice about Miss Kyle, and you'll make it on your own. This isn't a matter I shall try to influence... I know that she made you feel happy again. Being 'evil' doesn't mean one cannot feel with their heart. Truthfully, I don't mind either way you decide.  
**__**  
**__Why not? You've had a strong opinion until now.  
_

_**Because I know you won't get rid of me even if you were with her. I don't believe she would change you to good, because we now know she isn't fighting for the bat. She isn't fighting for good, and we've seen some of her evil acts ourselves in the past. I've been apart of you too long... you can't let go of me, or you'd lose yourself in the process. No, I'm not going anywhere, but I will take a rest while you choose. Think carefully, doctor.**_

Crane glanced up at the dimly glowing bulb in his cell. The other was right when it all came down to it. He had no intention of changing and never had.

Rising up from the bed, he folded his hands behind his back and stood there for a long time, considering everything in detail. He didn't sleep that night. Even after the guards had ordered that the lights be turned off, he continued to pace around the tiny space of his cell, muttering to himself. It wasn't until early in the morning as the sun began to rise over Arkham Asylum, that he reached his decision, collapsing onto the bed in an exhausted stupor. He didn't bother with pulling the covers over top of him.

His last thought as his head hit the pillow was a reminder to let Harley know what he was going to do, as he had promised.

Johnathan Crane slept peacefully that night, his mind resolved and at ease once more.  
_**  
**_-  
**Epilogue**: _**Early**_ _**December  
**_

"Your dinner's here Crane! Get your lazy psychotic ass out of that bunk!", a bored voice called through the bars. There was the jangling of keys followed by the familiar clicks as the locks of the door were opened, the light from outside spilling inside and overpowering the sickly glow the bulb provided.

Crane's eyes snapped open and he lifted his head from the pillow, rubbing his messy hair. His eyes darted to the opening steel door as he stood up, spotting the familiar face of the orderly he had been expecting.

The young man pushed his food trolley into the cell, coming to a stop before Crane. On the trolley sat multiple large trays with big silver covers over-top each one, to prevent them from getting cold sooner. Behind the smiling orderly, the bored faced guard who had spoken watched slightly, but not really caring one way or the other.

The thin, scarred patient stepped up to the orderly and smiled back at him politely.

"Is it my favorite meal today young man?", He asked cordially, speaking the words that Ventriloquist had instructed him to say. Crane stared into the boy's dark eyes, who confirmed the code with a slight tilt of his head.

The boy motioned down to the top of the trolley with a hand and grinned widely.

"I'm sure you'll find the tray in the middle to meet your expectation's", He replied knowingly, something in his eyes that betrayed who he was.

From the doorway, the armored guard looked down at his watch and sighed. He just wanted to finish the rounds and get out of the nuthouse. The high security block was always the worst place to be stationed.  
_  
Thank god Sharp overworks most of these guards_, Crane thought to himself snidely as he reached down and picked up the long silver topped tray carefully. _And that he's one of them._

"Thank you kindly", Crane said the orderly. "Give my regards to your cook, and inform him to keep the good meal's coming"

The young orderly pulled back the trolley carefully, guiding it back out of the cell. When he came to a stop outside the door next to the guard, he nodded back at the villain.

"I'll be sure to Crane", he replied smoothly, disappearing from view as he wheeled the squeaky trolley out Crane's field of vision. The bored faced guard followed suit by slamming the heavy door shut on Crane, locking it up and disappearing away from the bars.

Alone, Crane dropped all pretense, throwing the blankets of the bed up and setting tray down quickly. He tore the lid off, heart pounding, and stared down at the array of items he had requested. The professor threw a triumphant hand up in the air before running back over to the door. Beyond the bars on the other side of the wall, the blonde haired young woman's face stared back at him raptly. Harley's pretty face lit up and her mouth split into a wide grin as she spotted his thumbs up.

She raised her own thumb back and nodded to him, mouthing excitedly: 'Terrific!', before turning back in her cell and vanishing from sight.

Crane bolted back over to his small bed, sitting down upon it. He surveyed each one of the requested items for several moments. The delivery had been flawless! Reaching down to the tray, in both hands he picked up the dark gas-mask. He stared into it's deep dark eyepieces as he ran his long fingers over the twin metal nozzles protruding from either side.

_Along with the sewing materials, threads and needles, I can have a new undamaged mask again in no time! _Crane thought to himself happily. _It will be better then the other! I shall be able to take my time on it, this time around_. _It will be worth the debt I'll owe Black Mask_

Unknown to everyone but Harley and himself, there was a small space in the wall that Crane had dug out a long time prior to hide things in from the staff of Arkham. They didn't know the difference, due to how carefully he put back the pieces, almost like a puzzle. To anyone who did see it, it merely took the form of a few cracks on the floor next to the rusty sink. Crane could use this to hide his work as he completed it during the long nights of the week's that lay ahead.

The small flashlight and several battery's Ventriloquist had included meant that Crane could have enough time working until the second shipment. After sending the next letter through the underground, the delivery containing the ingredients to his wonderful toxins, from Sionis, would be his. He'd surely have the mask completed by then. Although they wouldn't be the fresh samples he wanted, they would be potent enough to work.

He had replied to her letter with a letter of his own, possessing only a single word answer on the sheet of paper, written in the fine tipped felt he was permitted to have in his cell.. After deliberating what he could write for five hours, he decided that he may as well keep it simple, and had passed it off to Ventriloquist to be delivered to her outside the asylum. Crane wasn't a poet, nor could he find the words to sum up how he felt, for her to read them.

The Scarecrow smiled down at the smooth gas-mask with deep satisfaction. The gears of the plan were grinding into motion once again, and the other villains were carrying out their respective parts to make sure the asylum wide breakout succeeded. He had told them to do so with the utmost care and precision, taking their time. If any of them were caught, the whole plan would be blown. Although it would take awhile for the plan to come into fruition, Crane was patient. Patience was a lesson he had learned over the course of his life.

He turned his head over to the wall the bed lay against, examining the newspaper clipping he'd discovered and taped up. The library news records at the asylum had been very thorough, dating back years. One in particular, dated a couple years prior during one of her vigilante streaks, had struck his attention the most while he'd been studying them. Unknown to the guards present, he'd eagerly brought it back to his cell.

It's black slightly faded ink read: _**Feline Foils Freak!**_

But it wasn't the headline that he cared much about, nor the smaller text underneath the photo explaining the bank's robbery a subsequent arrests. Rather it was the black latex covered figure who posed seductively for the camera, one hand upon it's slender hip, the other holding a bag of cash and wearing a bright lipped smile that had taken him by surprise upon seeing it. Beneath one of her high heeled boots was an unmistakable man laying bloody on the pavement, the respective handsome and grotesque portions of his face staring up at the young woman hatefully, the exposed teeth from behind the shriveled half of his lips, clenched, yet daring not to do anything, less her heel crush his throat.

That beautiful, ghostly pale face stared back at Crane again courtesy of the front page. The face watched over him as he slept, entering almost every dream he'd had in the weeks after the encounter. It brought a sense of comfort to the thin man and furthered his resolve, drive and need to get out of this place of misery and suffering. It seemed to speak to him, urging him to find her. In his deep sleeps, he held her once more in both arms...contented...happy. How he wanted that again, without the illusion of dreams but the reality.

The tall man turned away reluctantly from the taped picture, a hint of a smile tugging at his thin lips. Raising the gas mask slowly closer to his long, scarred face and picking up the sewing needle from the tray, Johnathan Crane closed his eyes for a moment, releasing a contented breath.

It was time to get to work.

_I'm on my way, Little Kitty._ _I hope you'll be ready._

**The End**

* * *

**And that's that :). I won't say the cliche of 'The End?', for I cannot promise a sequel at this time. I'll admit, there are times I enjoy what is known as the Hitchcockian ending, that resolves certain things but leaves others up in the air in an ambiguous state. We know his intent, but how might it play out? **

**I of course mixed Catwoman's comic book origin with Batman Returns ;), as I have been mixing most things. I felt The Batman Returns origin of her striking out against the cruelty inflicted upon her, rather then being a straight up thief, added great poignancy to the character of Selina... I admit, I was a little put off at hearing her modern day origin, IE, hooker on the street and whatnot... but that too after further examination had something to it. The fact that she has foiled one of Two Face's plots in the newspaper is reference to Arkham City where she fights him xD, I knocked poor Harv out as her. The idea of Crane having a newspaper clipping is a reference to an issue from the comic series, I cannot recall which, where he had a few of those up in his cell (though I think the reason behind this was far more malicious then the one I wrote xD), and in Catwoman's letter I refer of course to The Long Halloween having already taken place.  
**

**The idea behind this fanfiction was to do a self contained story in it's self that shows a character evolution, IE, Crane learns something, by the end, he has changed (if only to a small degree) by realizing things he had been missing out on, a world beyond the obsession that has held him since he was young. Now, by no means is he no longer an evil murderer xD, I will never write a mary sue story that gives the protagonist only happiness, but, as a very human character, a man, his different sides have come to an understanding. I believe that, if there is a happy ending, it has to be earned through suffering. For the first time, fe intends to escape the asylum, not merely to continue his malicious habit of spreading fear and despair... but because he has gained another incentive, perhaps a more powerful one, to do so. Catwoman. In a way, I chose Crane because he personifies some of my own traits, driven obsessively with certain things, suffers from anxiety, and is quite unique in his thinking and manner. One of my favorite ideas doing this was the one that a woman with a strong personality is capable of dragging this shell of a person, a man who has suffered more then most, out of the lonely world he has built for himself to keep himself from just giving up on living, and to introduce him to what lay outside of this world. I believe Crane grasped desperately on to his love of science, his penchant for fear and thirst for vengeance to avoid simply killing himself over the insanity that is his life, the insanity that is Gotham. His mad drive maintains him, but it isolates him. I noticed this in quite a few depictions of him, that he scarcely socializes with anyone beyond business... and wanted to explore this angle, how deeply rooted it was with his childhood trauma. **

**I've said it before and I'll say it again: The villains of Batman, hell, pretty much every character, are so well written that they are more human then any other cast or Rogues Gallery in any comic book series... this story was a fitting tribute to that fact, and I hope I succeeded.**

**I would like to thank every single person who has read this story, every person who has reviewed it, liked it, and motivated me to keep going... it means a lot that there's a whole community out there with that level of respect for the craft that is writing. All you people rock... and you particularly Nurse J0y ;).  
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**Until next time, **

**Antihero276  
**


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